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Dodge City 
The Cowboy Capital 

AND 

The Great Southwest 

IN 



The Days of 

The Wild Indian, the Buffalo, the Cowboy, 

Dance Halls, Gambling Halls 

and Bad Men 



BY 

ROBERT M. WRIGHT 

Plainsman, Explorer, Scout, Pioneer, Trader and Settler 






» 

(DCi.A854810 



PREFACE 

Whether a preface is explanatory or apologetic, is 
nmaterial, in the use we make of this one. Local history 
1 both personal and public ; but the narratives of a border 
fe are from conspicuous events, having an origin and a 
urpose similar to the discovery of a new country. Local 
istory is the result of development and progress ; and 
ach city or state history is the example of the whole 
3untry. The history of Dodge City, however, includes a 
ider environment than the ordinary city or town, 
ecause it was the focus of a range of country two 
undred miles, north, south, east, and west. Therefore, 
s center of gravitation was equal in extent to that of a 
'ate. Upon this axis revolved and oscillated the bull- 
hacker, the buffalo hunter, the cowboy, the humble 
itizen, and the desperado. The character and life of 
lis mixed class of citizenship was greatly sharpened and 
ahanced by reason of the strenuous and characteristic 
npulses which governed the circumstances in pursuit 
ad development. There was nothing passive in the life 
I the plainsman. The objective was the supreme motive ; 
)r he stood in face of danger, and his quickness of 
ituition and sense of warning kept him always alert. 
. character built up under such conditions must have 
een able to cope with the dangers and hardships incident 
) a country infested with warlike bands of Indians, and 
f outlaws which followed on the flanks of civilization. 

It is the author of this book, Honorable R. M. 
i^right, we wish to emphasize in- this simple explanation, 
[r. Wright came to the plains country a few years 
efore the civil war. As a young man, active and 
igorous, he became imbued with a spirit of chivalry 
Qd courage, followed by those traits of character inevit- 



able to this kind of life ; charity and benevolence. Many 
of the narratives in this book are largely his own personal 
experiences ; and they are written without display of 
rhetoric or fiction. In everything, Mr. Wright took the 
initiative, for he had the ability and had acquired an 
influence to accomplish whatever he undertook. Possess- 
ing wealth, at one time, he fostered every enterprise and 
gave impetus to its accomplishment. These are living 
examples of his public spirit and generosity; and these 
are living memories of his charitable deeds and benevolent 
gifts. This book is a fitting testimonial to his life and 
character. Time is generous in its rewards ; but no 
testimony endures which has not a basis upon which to 
found a character worthy of testimonial. Mr. Wright 
will give this book as furnishing an example of what 
constitutes greatness in life ; for few men have passed a 
severer ordeal, in greater hardship, and in more danger 

to life. 

N. B. KLAINE. 



— 4 — 



INTRODUCTION 

At the solicitation of many friends and acquaintances 
as well as a great many people who are desirous of know- 
ing about early life in the wild west and the Great 
American Desert, especially in wicked Dodge City, I 
w^rite these true stories and historical facts. The task is 
a pleasant one. As I look back and endeavor to recall 
the events of that period, a kaleidoscopic panorama pre- 
sents itself to my mind — a picture ever changing, ever 
restless, with no two days alike in experience. In those 
days, one lived ten years of life in one calendar year. 
Indians, drought, buffaloes, bad men, the long horn, and, 
in fact, so many characteristic features of that time 
present themselves that I am at a loss where to begin. 

I have often thought that did I possess but an atom 
of the genius of a Eapling, what an interesting narrative 
might I write of the passing events of that period. It 
would be another forceful proof of the trite saying that, 
''Truth is stranger than fiction." Had I but kept a 
diary of each days events as they occurred, from the 
first time I entered the great West, what rich food it 
would be to the novelist, and how strange to the present 
generation would be the reading. 

If you wish to feel yourself more comfortable than a 
king while listening to the sweetest strains of music, 
come back into a warm pleasant home with its comforts 
and listen to the crackle of a cheerful, open wood fire, 
after being out in cold and storm for a month or two, 
never, during that time, being near a house or comfortable 
habitation, while every moment being in terror of Indian 
attack, or suffering from cold and storm really more terri- 
ble than Indian attack, sitting up the greater part of 
the night to keep from freezing, and riding hard all day 



on the morrow. In the joy of the change, you will imagine 
yourself in the heaven of heavens. How many of us have 
often experienced these feelings on the frontier of Kansas 
in the early days. Yet this kind of a life gives one a zest 
for adventure, for it is a sort of adventure to which he 
not only become accustomed but attached. In fact, there 
is a fascination about it difficult {o resist, and, having 
once felt its power, one could not permit himself to give 
it up. 

In writing these stories, I have jdelded to the request 
of my friends, principally, for the reason that there are 
but few men left who saw these things, and I, too, will 
soon pass away. But before I go, I want^to leave behind 
a feeble description of the greatest game country on earth, 
as well as of the game that roamed over it, and of its 
people, and various phases of life. 

No doubt, many readers of this book who are reared 
in Christian homes under proper influences and, by reason 
of wholesome teachings, parental care and guidance and 
pure environments, will naturally conclude that Dodge 
City, in its early period, did not offer the best social 
climate in the world. 

Dodge City has been quoted all over the United 
States as the most wicked town in existence. The New 
York papers refer to it as such, the Washington papers 
do the same — so it goes. From New York to Washing- 
ton, from Washington to New Orleans, from New Orleans 
to St. Louis, from St. Louis to Chicago, and from there 
back to Kansas, if horrible crime is committed, they say, 
''This is almost as bad, as wicked, as Dodge City.'* 

But, in extenuation of the conduct of her early 
inhabitants, I plead the newness of the territory, the 
conditions of life, the dangers and associations of a 
western frontier, and the daring and reckless spirit that 
such conditions engender. 

— 6 — 







6 

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I also insist that Dodge City was not the worst place 
on earth and at last I have heard of a town which was 
equal to if not worse than Dodge City, and, by way of 
comparison, I here quote a graphic picture taken from the 
"Virginia City Chronicle," published in the '70 's, of 
another bad town : 

"There are saloons all over the place, and whisky 
four bits a drink. They put two barrels upon end, nail 
a board across for a bar and deal out. A miner who 
wants to treat pours some gold dust on the barrel head 
and says, "Set 'em up!" They never weigh the dust. 
Sometimes a man won't put down enough dust, but they 
never say a word, and if he's a little drunk and puts up 
ten or fifteen dollars worth they never mention it. They 
have three faro banks running all the time. They don't 
use checks, for the boys, when they won a pile of checks 
they threw them all over the place and some of them 
were too drunk to handle them. So the checks got played 
out. Now a man puts a little gold dust on a dollar green- 
back and it goes for two dollars worth of dust, on a 
ten dollar greenback goes for twenty dollars, and so on — 
don't weigh the dust at all but guess the amount. We 
have a daily newspaper — that is, sometimes it's daily, and 
then when the compositors get drunk it doesn't come out 
for several days. If a man wants gun wadding he goes 
and pays four bits for a newspaper. Whenever they start 
a new city government they print a lot of city ordinances, 
then there's a grand rush for the paper. Sometimes it 
comes out twice a week and sometimes twice a day. 
Every man in Deadwood carries about fourteen pounds 
of firearms hitched to his belt, and they never pass any 
words. The fellow that gets his gun out first is the best 
man and they lug off the other fellow's body. Our 
graveyard is a big institution and a growing one. Some- 
times, however, the place is right quiet. I've known 
times when a man wasn't killed for twenty-four hours. 

— 7 — 



Then again they'd lay out five or six a day. When a man 
gets too handy with his shooting irons and kills five or 
six, they think he isn't safe, and somebody pops him over 
to rid the place of him. They don't kill him for what he 
has done, but for what he's liable to do. I suppose that 
the average deaths amount to about one hundred a 
month." 



— 8 — 



CHAPTER I 

The Country, Time, and Conditions 
that Brought About Dodge City 

Dodge City is situated on or near the hundredth 
meridian. It is just three hundred miles in a direct 
western line from the Missouri river, one hundred and 
fifty miles south from the Nebraska line, fifty miles north 
of the Oklahoma line, and one hundred miles from Colo- 
rado on the west. As the state is just four hundred miles 
long and two hundred wide, it follows that Dodge City 
is located in the direct center of the southwestern quar- 
ter, or upon the exact corner of the southwestern six- 
teenth portion of Kansas. By rail it is three hundred and 
sixty-three miles from Kansas City, Missouri, toward the 
west. Dodge City was laid out in July, 1872, under the 
supervision of Mr, A. A. Robinson, chief engineer of the 
Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad, and, for many 
years afterwards, general manager of that road, and a 
more pleasant gentleman I never met. The town company 
consisted of Colonel Richard I. Dodge, commander of the 
post at Fort Dodge, and several of the officers under him. 
R. M. Wright was elected president of the town company, 
and Major E. B. Kirk, quartermaster at Fort Dodge, was 
made secretary and treasurer. Dodge City, was located 
five miles west of Fort Dodge, on the north bank of the 
Arkansas river. The Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe rail- 
road reached Dodge City in the early port of September 
the same year, and the town was practically the terminus 
of the road for the next few months, when it reached 
out to Sargent, on the state line. Meanwhile, what a 
tremendous business was done in Dodge City! For 
months and months there was no time when one could 
get through the place on account of the blocking of the 
streets by hundreds of wagons — freighters, hunters and 

— 9 — 



government teams. Almost any time during the day, 
there were about a hundred wagons on the streets, and 
dozens and dozens of camps all around the town, in every 
direction. Hay was worth from fifty to one hundred 
dollars per ton, and hard to get at any price. We were 
entirely without law or order, and our nearest point of 
justice was Hays City, ninety-five miles northeast of 
Dodge City. Here we had to go to settle our differences, 
but, take it from me, most of those differences were 
settled by rifle or six-shooter on the spot. 

Hays City was also the point from which the west 
and southwest obtained all supplies until the Atchison, 
Topeka & Santa Fe railroad reached Dodge. All the 
freighters, buffalo hunters and wild and wooly men for 
hundreds of miles gathered there. It was a second 
Dodge City, on a smaller scale. Getting drunk and riding 
up and do\^m the sidewalks as fast as a horse could go, 
firing a six-shooter and whooping like a wild Indian, 
were favorite pastimes, exciting, innocent and amusing. 
At this place lived a witty Irishman, a justice of the 
peace, by the name of Joyce. One day, near Hays City, 
two section-hands (both Irish) got into an altercation. 
One came at the other with a spike hammer. The other 
struck him over the head with a shovel, fracturing his 
skull and instantly killing him. There was nu one present. 
The man who did the deed came in, gave himself up, told 
a reasonable story, and was very penitent. Citizens went 
out and investigated and concluded it was in self-defence. 
When the Irishman was put on trial. Justice Joyce asked 
the prisoner the usual question, "Are you guilty or not 
guilty?" ''Guilty, your honor," replied the prisoner. 
"Shut up your darned mouth," said Joyce; "I discharge 
you for want of evidence." Many couples did Justice 
Joyce make man and wife, and several did he divorce. 
He went on the principle that one who had the power to 
make had also the power to unmake. Many acts did he 
perform that, although not legal, were witty, and so 

— 10 — 



many snarls were made in consequence that, after the 
country became civilized, the legislature was asked for 
relief, and a bill was passed legalizing Justice Joyce's 
acts. 

Such is a sample of early day justice, and a glance at 
other phases of life on the plains, in early days, will make 
clear the conditions that made possible a town like 
Dodge City. During the '50 's overland travel had become 
established, and communication between the Missouri 
river and Santa Fe, New Mexico, and Denver, Colorado, 
was regularly kept up, in the face of many dangers and 
difficulties. I made my first overland trip with oxen in 
the year 1859, reaching the town of Denver in May. 
Three times after that I crossed the plains by wagon 
and twice by coach. My second trip was made in war 
times, in the spring of 1863, when guerrilla warfare was 
rife in Kansas. I witnessed some evidences of the 
guerrillas in the work of Jim and Bill Anderson, hard 
characters from Missouri who, at the commencement 
of the war, had taken to the brush. It happened like 
this : 

Traveling along I noticed that the country was dotted 
with bare chimneys and blackened ruins of houses along 
the old Santa Pe trail, from a few miles west of Westport 
to Council Grove. The day we reached Council Grove, 
two men rode in on fine horses and, dismounting, one 
of them said: "I expect you know who we are, but I am 
suffering the torments of hell from the toothache, and if 
you will allow me to get relief we will not disturb your 
town ; but if we are molested, I have a body of men near 
here who will burn your town." These men, I learned 
afterw^ards, were Bill Anderson and Up. Hays. A friend 
by the name of Chatfield with his family, and I with my 
family, were traveling together. We drove about ten 
miles from Council Grove that day, and camped with an 
ox train going to Santa Pe. Chatfield and I had a very 

— 11 — 



j 



large tent between us. That night, about midnight, dur 
ing a heavy rainstorm, these two men with about fifty 
others rode up and dismounted, and, as many of them 
as could enter our tent, crowded in and asked for water. 
We happened to have a large keg full. After they drank, 
they saw that our wives as well as ourselves were much 
frightened, and they said: "liadies, you need not be 
frightened; we are not making war on women and 
children, but on 'blue coats.' " When we reached 
Diamond Springs w^e saw what their purpose was. They 
had murdered the people and burned their houses. The 
place, indeed, presented a look of desolation and destruc- 
tion. Not a living thing could be seen about the premises 
and we were too scared to make an investigation. We 
learned afterward it was an old grudge they had against 
these people. 

Various government posts were established along the 
trails for the protection of travelers and settlers, and the 
quelling of numerous Indian outbreaks. Fort Aubrey, 
Bent's Fort, and Fort Atkinson, were among the earlier 
posts, and Fort Larned, Fort Supply, Fort Lyon, and 
Fort Dodge were familiar points to the inhabitants of the 
plains before the establishment of Dodge City. Fort 
Lyon was in eastern Colorado, and was first established 
in 1860, near Bent's Fort on the Arkansas, but was newly 
located, in 1867, at a point twenty miles distant, on the 
north bank of the Arkansas, two and one-half miles below 
the Purgatory River. Fort Lamed was established Octo- 
ber 22, 1859, for the protection of the Santa Fe trade, on 
the right bank of the Pawnee Fork, about seven miles 
above its mouth. Fort Dodge was located in 1864, and 
the site for its location was selected because it was where 
the wet route and the dry route intersected. The dry 
route came across the divide from Fort Larned, on the 
Pawnee, while the wet route came around by the river, 
supposed to be about fifteen miles further. The dry route 

— 12 — 



was often without water the whole distance, and trains 
would lay up to recruit after making the passage, which 
caused this point on the Arkansas river to become a 
great camping ground. Of course the Indians found this 
out, to their delight, and made it one of their haunts, to 
pounce down upon the unwary emigrant and freighter. 
Numerous were their attacks in this vicinity, and many 
were their victims. Men were butchered in the most 
horrible manner, stock was killed, and women taken into 
captivity more terrible than death, and even trains of 
wagons were burned. Some of the diabolical work I 
have witnessed with my own eyes, and will speak of some 
of it later. 

One day a Mexican Indian, or at least a Mexican who 
had been brought up by the Indians, came in and said 
his train had been attacked at the mouth of Mulberry 
creek, the stock run off, and every one killed but him. 
This was the first outbreak that spring. We afterward 
learned that this Mexican had been taken in his youth 
and adopted by the Indians, and had participated in 
killing his brothers. In fact, he had been sent to the 
train to tell them that the Indians were friendly. They 
captured the train and murdered every one in it, without 
giving them the ghost of a show. The Mexican wa& then 
sent to Fort Dodge to spy and find out what was going 
on there, because he could speak Spanish. Major Douglas 
sent a detachment down, and true enough there lay the 
train and dead Mexicans, with the mules and harness 
gone. The wagons were afterward burned. The train 
had passed over the old Fort Bascom trail from New 
Mexico, a favorite route, as it was much shorter than the 
Santa Fe trail and avoided the mountains, but scarce of 
water and very dangerous. At last it became so dangerous 
that it had to be abandoned. The trail which came into 
the Arkansas four miles west of the town of Cimarron 
had to be abandoned for the same reason. 

— 13 — 



Many attacks were made along the route, and three 
trains that I know of were burned, and several had to be 
abandoned and stock driven into the Arkansas river on 
account of the scarcity of water. The route was called 
the "Hornado de Muerti" (the journey of death; very 
significant was its name). At one time you could have 
followed the route, even if the wagon trail had been 
obliterated, by the bleaching bones. There are two places 
now in Grant or Stevens county, on the Dry Cimarron, 
known as Wagon Bed Springs and Barrel Springs. One 
was named because the thirsty freighters had sunk a 
wagon-bed in the quick-sand to get water; and in the 
other place because they had sunk a barrel. Sixty miles 
above where this route came into the Arkansas there was 
another called the Aubrey route, which was less danger- 
ous because less subject to Indian attacks, and water was 
more plentiful. Colonel F. X. Aubrey, a famous freighter, 
established this route, and it became more famous on 
account of a large wager that he could make the distance 
on horseback, from Santa Fe to Independence, Missouri, 
in eight days. He won the wager, and had several hours 
to spare. Colonel Aubrey had fresh horses stationed with 
his trains at different places along the whole route. He 
afterwards made his famous trip down through the wilds 
of Arizona and California, accompanied by a single 
Indian, and came back to Santa Fe, after a six months' 
journey, with marvelous stories of the rich finds he had 
made. He had the proof with him in the shape of quartz 
and nuggets. When some gentleman questioned his 
veracity, immediately a duel was fought, in which the 
Colonel was killed. No money, bribe, threats or coaxing 
could induce that Indian to go back and show where these 
riches lay. He said: "No, I have had enough. Nothing 
can tempt me again to undergo the hardships I have 
endured from want of food and water and the dangers 
I have escaped. Death at once would be preferable." 

— 14 — 



A few miles east of where the Aubrey trail comes into 
the Arkansas is what is known as the "Gold Banks." 
Old wagon bosses have told me that along in the early 
fifties a party of miners, returning from California richly 
laden, was attacked by Indians. The white men took to 
the bluffs and stood them off for several days and made a 
great fight ; but after a number were killed and the others 
starved out for water, they buried their treasure, 
abandoned their pack animals, and got away in the night, 
and some of the party came back afterwards and recov- 
ered their buried riches. Another version of the story 
says that they were all killed before they reached the 
states. At any rate, long years ago there were many 
searches made, and great excitement was always going 
on over these bluffs. In 1859 I saw a lot of California 
miners prospecting in the bluffs and along the dry 
branches that put into the Arkansas ; and I was told 
they got rich color in several places, but not enough to 
pay. In this vicinity, and east of the bluffs, is what is 
named Choteau's island, named after the great Indian 
trader of St. Louis, the father of all the Choteaus. Here 
he made one of his largest camps and took in the rich 
furs, not only of the plains, but of the mountains also. 

At this side of the point of Rocks, eight miles west of 
Dodge City, used to be the remains of an old adobe fort. 
Some called it Fort Mann, others Fort Atkinson. Which 
is correct I do not know. When I first saw it, in May, 
1859, the walls were very distinct and were in a good 
state of preservation, excepting the roofs gone. There 
had been a large corral, stables, barracks for troops, and 
a row of buildings which I supposed were officers quar- 
ters. Who built it, or what troops had occupied it, I do 
not know. There were many legends connected with old 
Fort Mann. Some say that a large Mexican train, heavily 
loaded with Mexican dollars, took shelter there from the 
Indians, and finally lost all their cattle, and buried their 

— 15 — 



money to keep it out of the hands of the Indians, and 
got back to Mexico as best they could. When they 
returned, the river had washed all their cache away, and 
it was never recovered; but the following is the best 
information I could gather, and I think it is the most 
plausible story: In the '50 's, and a long while before, 
the government did its own freighting with ox teams. 
Many a horn have I seen branded '^U. S.'' One of these 
trains was on its way back to the states, loaded with ox 
chains, for the simple reason that the government usually 
sold its wagons after they had delivered their loads of 
supplies, at their respective destinations, to the miners, 
hunters, and trappers, and turned the cattle over to the 
commissary for beef. This would naturally leave a large 
accumulation of ox chains. Now, this train loaded with 
chains met the heavy snowstorm in or near Fort Mann, 
and they cached their chains at the fort, and went in 
with a few light wagons, and the river washed the chains 
away ; for the banks have washed in several hundred feet 
since I have known the place. 

There was some inquiry made from Washington 
about Fort Mann, about thirty years ago, and I remember 
going with an escort, and, on the sloping hillside north of 
the fort, finding three or four graves. Of these, one was 
that of an officer, and the others of enlisted men; also 
two lime-kilns in excellent condition and a well-defined 
road leading to Sawlog. In fact, the road was as large as 
the Santa Fe trail, showing that they must have hauled 
considerable wood over it. This leads me to believe that 
the fort had been occupied by a large garrison. 

Another story, and a strange one, of very early times 
deals with the ever interesting subject of buried treasure, 
hinting of the possibility of companies being organized to 
dig for such treasure, supposed to have been concealed 
near Dodge City. About four miles west of Dodge, per- 
haps many of our readers have noticed a place where the 

— 16 — 



earth seems to have been, a long time ago, thrown up 
into piles, holes dug, etc., indicating that some body of 
soldiers, -hunters, or freighters had made breastworks to 
defend themselves against an enemy. We have often 
noticed this place and wondered if a tale of carnage could 
not be told, if those mounds only had mouths and voices 
to speak. But we leave this to be explained, as it will be, 
in the after part of this article, and will proceed to tell all 
we have learned of the story, just as it was told in the 
early days of Dodge. 

*'In the year of 1853, when this country was as wild 
as the plains of Africa, only traversed at intervals by 
tribes of Indians and bands of Mexicans, there were no 
railroads running west of St. Louis, and all the freight 
transmitted by government was carried over this country 
by large freighting trains, such as now run between here 
and Camp Supply. In the summer of that year, a freight- 
ing train consisting of eighty-two men with one hundred 
and twenty wagons started from Mexico, across these 
plains, for Independence, Missouri, to purchase goods. 
The whole outfit was in charge of an old Mexican 
freighter named Jesus M. Martinez, whom many of the 
old plainsmen of thirty years ago will remember. They 
traveled along what is now known as the old Santa Fe 
trail and every night corralled their wagons and kept 
guards posted to give the alarm if danger should approach 
in the way of Indians, bandits, or prairie fires. One 
evening they halted about sundown, formed the usual 
corral, and prepared to rest for the night. Little did 
they think what that night had in store for them. They 
had observed Indians during the day, but the sight of 
these children of the plains was no source of annoyance 
to them, as they had never been troubled and had seen 
no hostile manifestations. Some time during the night 
the men who were on watch observed objects not far from 
camp, the dogs commenced making a fuss, and presently 
the watchmen became suspicious and aroused old man 

— 17 — 



Martinez. Martinez, being an old plainsman and under- 
standing the tactics of the Indians, after closely observ- 
ing through the darkness, came to the opinion that 
Indians were lurking around, and that their intentions 
were not good. He awoke some of his men and they held 
a kind of consultation as to the best course to pursue, and 
finally decided to prepare for the worst. They immedi- 
ately commenced digging trenches and preparing for 
defense. The objects around them during all this time 
seemed to grow more numerous every moment, and 
finally could be seen on all sides. The Mexicans waited 
in suspense, having intrenched themselves as well as 
possible in ditches and behind piles of dirt. Finally, 
with yells and shouts, as is always their custom, the 
Indians made a dash upon the camp from all sides. The 
Mexicans received them like true martyrs, and being 
well fortified had every advantage. Their eighty-two 
guns poured fatal balls into the yelling enemy at every 
report. The Indians finally fell back and the Mexicans 
then hoped for deliverance, but it was like hoping against 
fate. The next day the attack was renewed at intervals, 
and at each attack the Mexicans fought like demons. For 
five days the siege continued, a few of the Mexicans 
being killed, in the meantime, and many Indians. During 
the time the Mexicans had scarcely slept, but what struck 
terror to their hearts was the consciousness that their 
ammunition was nearly gone. On the sixth night the 
Indians made a more desperate attack than before. They 
seemed crazed for blood and vengeance for the chiefs 
they had already lost. As long as their ammunition 
lasted the Mexicans continued their stern resistance, but 
powder and lead was not like the widow's oil. It steadily 
decreased until none was left. Then their guns were 4 
still, and they were swallowed up like Pharaoh's hosts 
in the Red Sea, by wild Cheyennes, Arrapahoes and 
Kiowas, who made deathly havoc with the little handful 
of brave Mexicans. We need not dwell upon this scene 

— 18 — 



1 



of butchery, and it is only necessary to relate that but one 
man is known to have escaped in the darkness, and that 
man, som-ewhat strange to note, was old Jesus M. Mar- 
tinez. How he managed to secrete himself we can hardly 
divine, others might have been carried away and held 
captive until death, but he alone never told the story to 
the pale-face. The Indians pillaged the train of all the 
flour, bacon, etc., took the stock, set fire to some of the 
wagons, and then. Indianlike, immediately left the field 
of carnage. Old Martinez remained in his hiding place 
until morning and until the Indians were miles away, then 
creeping out he surveyed the remains of what a few days 
ago was his jolly, jovial companions. He was alone with 
the dead. 

''As is nearly always the case with persons when no 
eye is near, he thought of the valuables, and knowing 
that quite an amount of silver was stored in one of the 
wagons, he searched and found a portion of it. As near 
as he remembered, when he related this occurrence to 
his son, he found twenty-one small bags, each one contain- 
ing one thousand silver Mexican dollars. These bags he 
carried some distance from the camp, we cannot learn 
exactly how far, or which way, and buried them. He then 
started out and made his way on foot back to his old 
home in Mexico, where, it seems, he died soon afterwards. 
But before he died he told his son what we have related 
above, and advised him to hunt this treasure. What goes 
to corroborate this story was the evidence of Dr. Wilber 
of Kansas iCity, who sold goods to these Mexicans and 
knew of their having a considerable quantity of silver in 
their possession. 

"Pursuant to his father's advice young Martinez 
came up to this country some years after the death of his 
father for the purpose of following his instructions. 
There are two men now living in this city to whom he 
revealed the secret, one of whom assisted him in search- 

— 19 — 



ing for the buried treasure. From the directions marked 
out by old Martinez they found the spot where the mas- 
sacre took place, about four miles west of Dodge City — 
the spot described above, where the pits and dirt piles are 
still plainly visible. For days and even weeks young 
Martinez searched the ground in that vicinity using a 
sharpened wire, which he drove into the ground wher- 
ever he supposed the treasure might lie concealed. But 
he was not successful, and not being of a persevering 
nature abandoned the search and remained around Fort 
Dodge for some time, when he fell into the habit and 
became a hard drinker. He finally returned to Mexico 
and has not been back here since, that we are aware of. 
After he left, one of the men to whom he had revealed 
the secret (and this man now lives in this city) made a 
partial search for the treasure. He hired men and after 
swearing them to secrecy as to what they were searching 
for, set them to digging ditches. They found nothing 
and abandoned the work." 

This story, as told above, is an historical fact, and 

portions of it have been heretofore published. We can 
give names of men who know more about it than we do, 

but by request we do not publish them. This treasure will 
probably be found some day, and probably will lie buried 
forever, and never see the light. No eye but the Omni- 
potent 's can tell the exact spot where it lies. As we saicF 
above, it is rumored that parties are preparing to institute 
a search. They may find it and they may not. We hope 
they will as it is of no benefit to mankind where it is. It 
certainly exists. 

Such were some of the traces Avhich the feet of the 
white man left behind in their first passing over the || 
plains of the southwest. One almost lost sight of the 
natural features and attractions of the region, in viewing 
these intensely interesting evidences of the beginnings 
of the conquest of the wilds by civilization. Yet the 

— 20 — 



natural beauties and attractions were there in super- 
lative degree. 

An old darkey, living in the Arkansas valley, thus 
explains- how it happened that the territory of Kansas 
exists. On being asked by a land looker what he thought 
of the country, he said: 

^'Well, sail, when the good Lord made dis whole 
world, He found out that He had made a mistake, dat He 
had not made any garden, so He jest went to work and 
made Hisself a garden, and we call it Kansas. ' ' 

And a natural garden, indeed, in many respects, was 
the Arkansas valley in southwestern Kansas. Pages 
could be filled with descriptions of its beauties without 
exhausting the subject. But no less than the charms and 
interest of its physical features, were the charms and 
interest of other of its natural attributes, atmospheric 
peculiarities, for instance, which, as in the blizzard, arose 
at times to the height of the grand and terrible. Other 
phases of atmospheric conditions, however, peculiar to 
the great plains in pioneer days, were very beautiful, and 
perhaps the best example of such was the mirage. 

Mirage, Webster describes as an "optical illusion, 
arising from an unequal refraction in the lower strata 
of the atmosphere, and causing remote objects to be seen 
double, as if reflected in a mirror, or to appear as if 
suspended in the air. It is frequently seen in deserts, 
presenting the appearance of water." 

If I were gifted with descriptive powers, what won- 
derful scenes could I relate of the mirage on the plains 
of Kansas. What grand cities towering to the skies have 
I seen, with their palaces and cathedrals and domed 
churches, with tall towers and spires reaching almost 
up to the clouds, with the rising sun glistening upon 
them until they looked like cities of gold, their streets 
paved with sapphire and emeralds, and all surrounded 

— 21 — 



by magnificent walls, soldiers marching, with burnished 
spears and armor ! There would arise at times over all a 
faint ethereal golden mist, as if from a smooth sea, shin- 
ing upon the towers and palaces with a brilliancy so great 
as to dazzle the eyes — a more gorgeous picture than could 
be painted by any artist of the present, or by any of the 
old masters. The picture as has presented itself to me I 
still retain in good recollection, in its indescribable mag- 
nificence. At other times the scenes would change 
entirely, and, instead of great cities there would be moun- 
tains, rivers, seas, lakes, and ships, or soldiers and armies, 
engaged in actual conflict. So real have such sights 
appeared to me on the plains that I could not help but 
believe they were scenes from real life, being enacted in 
some other part of the world, and caught up by the rays of 
the sun and reflected to my neighborhood, or perhaps that 
some electrical power had reproduced the exact picture 
for me. 

How many poor creatures has the mirage deceived 
by its images of water. At times one unacquainted with 
its varied whims would be persuaded that it really was 
water, and would leave the well-beaten track to follow^ 
this optical illusion, only to wander farther from water 
and succor, until he dropped down from thirst and 
exhaustion, never to rise again, never again to be heard 
of by his friends, his bleaching bones to be picked by the 
coj^ote, unburied and forgotten. On other occasions you 
would see immense towering forests, with every variety 
of trees and shrubbery. In some places it would be so 
dark and lowering, even in the daylight, as to appear 
dangerous, though one could not help admiring its gloomy 
grandeur. Then there would be fair spots of picturesque 
beauty, with grottoes and moonlit avenues, inviting you 
to promenade, where one seemed to hear the stroke of the 
barge's oars on lake and river, and the play of the foun- 
tains, and the twitter of the birds. 

— 22 — 



With the trail of the plow, followed by immigration 
and civilization, the wonderful mirage is a thing of the 
past. It is only now and then that one gets a glimpse of 
its beauties; its scenes of magnificence, far beyond any 
powers of description, I will never see again. 



— 23 — 



CHAPTER II 

Travel on Old Trails 

On a beautiful spring morning in early May, 1859, I 
was awakened at the break of day — having gone into 
camp the preceding evening after dusk — by the singing 
of birds and lowing of cattle, and last, but not least, the 
harsh and discordant voice of the wagon boss — of whom 
I stood in wholesome fear — calling, ''Roll out! roll out!'' 
to the men as the cattle were driven into the corral to 
yoke up and get started. Indeed all nature seemed alive 
and pouring out the sweetest notes on that lovely morning 
when I first saw the great Pawnee Rock. 

It was, indeed, a curious freak of nature, rising 
abruptly out of a fertile stretch of bottom land several 
miles wide, thee or four miles north of the Arkansas river, 
which flowed sluggishly along its way, its muddy current 
on its usual spring rise caused by the melting of snow in 
the mountains. The time of the year, the ideal weather, 
and the lovely greensward, interspersed with the most 
beautiful variegated wild flowers, combined to make one 
of the most beautiful sights I ever witnessed. The scene 
impressed itself not only upon me, but the other drivers — 
''Bull whackers," we were called — shared my admiration, 
and through our united petition to the wagon boss, the 
train was halted long enough to allow our going to the 
Rock, from the summit of which I obtained the grand 
view that so impressed me. It seemed as if I could never 
tire of gazing on the wonderful panorama that spread 
before me. 

The road, if recollection serves me right, ran only a 
few hundred feet south of the base of the Rock, parallel to 
its face. The Rock faced the south, rearing itself abruptly, 
and presenting almost a perpendicular front with a com- 
paratively smooth surface, having thousands of names 

— 24 — 



inscribed on its face, and also on a great many slabs that 
had, in the process of time and exposure to the elements, 
been detached from its top and sides and lay flat at its 
base. Most of the names were those of '^ Forty-niners" 
who had taken that route in their mad rush for the gold 
fields of California during that memorable year. Among 
the names cut in the Rock were those of officers and 
enlisted men in the United States army as well as a 
number of famous men and frontiersmen. 

There were also a great many Indian paintings, or 
pictographs, and hieroglyphics done by the red man — 
crude and laughable, and some of them extraordinarily 
funny, but I have been told since there was a great deal 
of significance attached to these paintings, some of them 
portraying important tribal history, others representing 
brave and heroic deeds, performed by members of the 
tribes. 

Of course, there were a great many stories told of the 
Rock, romances the most of them, I suppose. 

An old plainsman and mountaineer told me that the 
name *' Pawnee Rock" was taken from a great fight 
lasting several days, between the Pawnees and their life- 
long enemies, the Plains Indians composed of a mixed 
band of Cheyennes, Arapahoes, Kiowas, Commanches, and 
a few Sioux, all pitted against the Pawnees, and number- 
ing more than ten to one. What a desperate battle it 
was! 

The Pawnees had come over to the Arkansas on their 
usual buffalo hunt, and, incidentally, to steal horses 
from their enemies, the Plains Indians. They crossed 
the river and proceeded south, penetrating deep into the 
enemy's country, where a big herd of ponies grazed and 
lived in supposed security. The Pawnees reached the 
herd without arousing the least suspicion of the owners 
that the animals were in danger. Surrounding and cut- 

— 25 — 



ting out what they wanted, they started on the return 
trip, greatly elated over their easy success, and reached 
the Arkansas river without meeting with the slightest 
resistance, but found the river very high and out of its 
banks. The ponies refused to take the river, which 
delayed them considerably. In the meantime, the band 
of Indians, composed of Cheyennes, Araphaoes, Kiowas, 
Comanches, and a few Sioux, was on a buffalo hunt, too, 
when some of them discovered the trail of the Pawnees 
and quickly notified the others. They all gave chase, 
overtaking the Pawnees just as they were crossing the 
Arkansas. The Pawnees might still have gotten away 
had they abandoned the stolen horses; but this they 
refused to do until it was too late. 

Finally, pressed on all sides by overwhelming odds, 
they were glad to retreat to the rock where they made 
a final stand, fortifying themselves as best they could 
by erecting mounds of loose rock, and loading and firing 
from behind this crude shelter with such daring and 
bravery that their enemies were kept at bay. They were 
sorely in need of water. Of meat they had plenty, as 
they lived upon the flesh of their dead horses. At night, 
some of them usually crept through the line of sentinels 
that guarded them and made their way to the river, 
filling canteens of tanned hide or skins and working their 
way back to their beseiged friends. 

The fight was kept up for three days and nights, the 
Cheyennes and allies making frequent charges during the 
day, but always being compelled to fall back with severe 
loss, until they had almost annihilated the little band of 
Pawnees. On the fourth night they were reduced to three 
or four men. Knowing their desperate situation and 
realizing that there was no chance for any of them to 
escape, they determined to sell their lives as dearly as 
possible. Every man stripped stark naked, and, watching 
his opportunity, when the guards were less vigilant than 

— 26 — 



usual, crept stealtthily toward the foes. Having 
approached as near as they could without detection, the 
Pawnees burst upon the enemy with all the fury of des- 
perate men going to their death, and, with blood-curdling 
yells, fought as never men fought before. One of them 
was armed with a long spear and knife only. (These 
spears were used in killing buffaloes). Many a man 
went down before the w^eapon, but, finally the Pawnee 
drove it so deeply into one of his victims that he could not 
withdraw it. Then he fell back on his butcher knife and 
made terrible havoc with it, until overpowered by num- 
bers, he died a warrior's glorious death, reeking with 
the blood of his enemies. He certainly had sufficient 
revenge. 

The time we camped at the foot of the Rock we 
did not go into camp until after nightfall. Another man 
and I were placed on first guard around the grazing 
cattle. After being out some time, we were startled by 
something dropping, zip ! zip ! into the grass around us 
and near us. We thought it was Indians shooting at us 
wdth arrows. There were all sorts of rumors of attacks 
from Indians, and this certainly was a great Indian camp- 
ing ground and country, so we were greatly alarmed and 
continually on the lookout, expecting at any time to be 
attacked. We finally concluded to go to camp and 
notify the wagon boss. He came back with us and for a 
long time believed that Indians were shooting at us, but 
the question was, where were they concealed? The 
mystery was finally solved. The peculiar sound was made 
by the little birds called sky-larks, flying up and alight- 
ing, striking the earth with such force that the noise 
seemed like that produced by the fall of an arrow or of 
a stone. The skylarks and meadow larks sang at all 
hours of the night on the plains. 

The great Pawnee Rock has found its way into the 
history of the west. Around its rugged base was many 

— 27 — 



a desperate battle fought and won; and many a mystic 
rite, performed within its shadow, has stamped upon the 
grand old mass the wierd and tragic nature of the 
children of the plains. 

It was in the immediate vicinity of the rock that I 
inadvertently started one of the most disastrous stam- 
pedes in the history of the plains. 

In the fall of 1862 I was going back east with one of 
Major Russell's and Waddell's large ox teams. I think 
we had thirty or forty wagons, with six yoke of oxen to 
the wagon. Our wagons were strung five or six together 
and one team of six yoke cattle attached to each string. 
It was the latter part of November, and we were travel- 
ing along the Arkansas river bottom about ten miles west 
of where Great Bend is now located. It was a very hot 
afternoon, more like summer than winter — one of those 
warm spells that we frequently have in the late fall on 
the plains. I was driving the cavayado (cave-yard — that 
is, the loose cattle). The Mexicans always drove their 
cavayado in front of their trains, while the Americans 
invariably drove theirs behind. I had on a heavy linsey- 
woolsey coat, manufactured from the loom in Missouri, 
lined with yellow stuff, and the sleeves lined with red; 
and, as I said, it was very warm ; so I pulled off my jacket, 
or coat, and in pulling it off turned it inside out. We had 
an old ox named Dan, a big, old fellow with rather large 
horns, and so gentle we used him as a horse in crossing 
streams, when the boys often mounted him and rode 
across. Dan was always lagging behind, and this day 
more than usual, on account of the heat. The idea struck 
me to make him carry the coat. I caught him and by dint 
of a little stretching placed the sleeves over his horns 
and let the coat flap down in front. 

I hardly realized what I had done until I took a front 
view of him. He presented a ludricrous appearance, with 
his great horns covered with red and the yellow coat 

— 28 — 



flapping down over his face. He trudged along uncon- 
scious of the appearance he presented. I hurried him 
along by, repeated punches with my carajo pole, for in 
dressing him up he had gotten behind. I could not but 
laugh at the ludicrous sight, but my laughter was soon 
turned to regret, for no sooner did old Dan make his 
appearance among the other cattle than a young steer 
bawled out in the steer language, as plain as good English, 
''Great Scott! what monstrosity is this coming among us 
to destroy us?" and with one long, loud, beseeching bawl, 
put all the distance possible between himself and the 
terror behind him. All his brothers followed his example, 
each one seeing how much louder he could baAvl than his 
neighbor, and each one trying to outrun the rest. I 
thought to myself, ' ' Great guns ! what have I done now ! ' ' 
I quickly and quietly stepped up to old Dan, fearing that 
he too might get away, and with the evidence of my guilt, 
took from his horns and head what had created one of 
the greatest stampedes ever seen on the plains, and placed 
it on my back where it belonged. In the meantime the 
loose cattle had caught up with the wagons, and those 
attached to the vehicles took fright and tried to keep up 
with the cavayado. In spite of all the drivers could do, 
they lost control of them, and away they went, making 
a thundering noise. One could see nothing but a big 
cloud of dust. The ground seemed to tremble. 

Nothing was left but Dan and me after the dust 
subsided, and I poked him along with my carajo pole as 
fast as possible, for I was anxious to find out what 
damage was done. "We traveled miles and miles, and it 
seemed hours and hours, at last espying the wagon boss 
still riding like mad. When he came up he said: ''What 
caused the stampede of the cavayado f" I replied that I 
could not tell, unless it was a wolf that ran across the 
road in front of the cattle, when they took fright and 
away they went, all except old Dan, and I held him, 
thinking I would save all I could out of the wreck. There 

— 29 — 



stood old Dan, a mute witness to my lies. Indeed, I 
thought at times he gave me a sly wink, as much as to 
say: "You lie out of it well, but I am ashamed of you." 
I thought that God was merciful in not giving this dumb 
animal speech, for if He had they certainly would have 
hung me. As it was, the wagon boss remarked : "I know 
it was the cussed wolves, because I saw several this after- 
noon, while riding in front of the train. Well," he con- 
tinued, "that wolf didn't do a thing but wreck six or 
eight wagons in Walnut creek, and from there on for the 
next five miles, ten or twelve more ; and most of them 
will never see the states again, they are so completeely 
broken up. Besides, one man's leg is broken and another's 
arm, and a lot of the men are bruised up. Three steers 
have their legs broken, and the front cattle were fifteen 
miles from where we are now, when I overtook them." 

I have seen many stampedes since, but never anything 
to equal that. I have seen a great train of wagons heavily 
loaded, struggling along, drivers pounding and swearing 
to get the cattle out of a snail's pace, and one would 
think the train too heavily loaded, it seemed such a 
strain on the cattle to draw it, when a runaway horse or 
something out of the usual would come up suddenly 
behind them, and the frightened cattle in the yoke would 
set up a bawl and start to run, and they would pick up 
those heavily loaded wagons and set off with them at a 
pace that was astonisoing, running for miles and over- 
turning the wagons. The boss in front, where he was 
always supposed to be, would give the order to rough- 
lock both wheels, which would probably be done to a few 
of the front wagons. Even these doubly locked wagons 
would be hurled along for a mile or two before the cattle 's 
strength was exhausted, and apparently the whole earth 
would shake in their vicinity. 

My experience with old Dan and the yellow-lined 
coat was laughable, with but a touch of the tragic at its 

— 30 — 



f 



lose, but all the travel along the Santa Fe trail and 
irge part of it was tragedy from beginning to end, 
indred highways, in those old days, had not so happy a 
3ne, and much of it had a much more tragic ending. A 
nlightened by any touch of humor. Indeed, had all the 
lood of man and beast, that was shed beside them, been 
arned, unlessened, into the trails, their course across 
he plains would have been marked in unbroken crimson, 
rom Westport to Santa Fe, and from Leavenworth to 
)enver. Moreover, the tragedy was greater than will 
ver be known, for mute evidences of mysterious blood- 
hed were not wanting along the old trails. Many times, 

I the early days of Fort Dodge, I have picked up little 
unches of cattle wandering on the plains aimlessly that 
ad been run off by the Indians, as well as horses and 
lules, and turned them over to some Mexican train from 
rhich they had been stampeded. Once I found a buggy 

II smashed to pieces in the timbered breaks of Duck 
reek, but we could never discover whom the unfortunate 
ccupants had been. They had been killed and dumped 
ut, no doubt, miles from where the vehicle was wrecked. 
)ne day I found one of the most beautiful horses I ever 
aw, with a fine saddle on his back. The saddle was 
ompletely saturated with blood. 

In 1863, the fall before Fort Dodge was established, 
n the bluffs where you first get a sight of the Arkansas 
n the dry route from Fort Larned, a little Mexican train 
if ten or twelve wagons loaded with corn, groceries and 
ther goods, many sacks of flour, together with a feather- 
led or two, camped one day to get dinner. Soon after 
hey had corralled a band of Indians rode up, with their 
ustomary, ''How-how, heap Hungry," and wanted some 
' chuck-a-way . " After gorging themselves, and had sat 
Tound the small fire of buffalo chips smoking, they 
rose, shook hands all around, mounted their ponies, and, 
-S they arrived at the rear of the corral, suddenly turned 
-nd killed every one of the Mexicans, excepting the day 

— 31 — 



herder, who had started off in advance to his animals 
that were quietly grazing in the grassy bottoms. The 
moment he heard the firing he lit out mighty lively for 
Fort Lyon, closely followed by the red devils, but he 
managed to escape; the only one left to tell the horrid 
tale. 

"We camped with the mail en route several times that 
winter, and fed our mules on corn, and ourselves ate of 
the canned goods that were scattered all over the trail. 
It was certainly a curious spectacle, and could be seen 
for quite a distance, where the savages had cut open 
feather beds and scattered their contents around, which 
had caught in the weeds and grass of the prairie. They 
also emptied many sacks of flour to get the sacks for 
breech-clouts. In nearly the same spot, and in the 
vicinity, have I many times helped bury the mutilated 
and scalped remains of men who had been ruthlessly 
murdered there by the Indians. 

For many years, and several years before Dodge 
City was started. Barlow, Sanderson & Company ran a 
tri-weekly stage line through Fort Dodge, over the old 
Santa Fe trail. They used a large Concord coach, con- 
taining three inside seats, capable of holding nine persons 
comfortably. Then there was a driver's box where three 
more could be comfortably seated, besides an upper deck 
where more passengers and baggage could be stowed 
away; and also what was called a front and hind boot, 
where still more trunks and baggage could be carried, 
with a large leather apron strapped down over them, to 
hold things in place and keep out the weather. There were 
five mules attached to the coach, two mules on the wheel 
and three on the lead, and relays were provided from 
thirty to fifty miles apart, except from Fort Larned to 
Fort Lyon which were two hundred and forty miles apart. 
In addition to the stage, a light wagon was taken along 

— 32 — 



to carry grub and bedding. It was seven hundred miles 
from Kansas City to Santa Fe, and the coach made it is 
seven days. 

One time, before Port Dodge was established, we had 
to abandon a big Concord coach, at the foot of Nine-mile 
Ridge, on account of the muddy condition of the trail, 
and went on to the stage station with a light spring 
wagon. On the way we met a band of friendly Indians 
who were going to Fort Larned, and we told them to haul 
the coach in. Of course they didn't follow the trail, 
but struck across the country on to Pav^naee Fork. After 
a long time had elapsed. Little Raven, the chief, rode 
into the fort and told us he had left the coach twenty 
miles up the creek, and blessed if he could get it any 
farther, as he had pulled the tails out of nearly every one 
of his herd of ponies to get it that far. You see their 
method of hauling the coach was by tying it to the tails 
of their ponies. 

The summer of 1866, I was closing up my business at 
Fort Aubrey, preparatory to moving to Fort Dodge, 
where I had a contract to fill for wood, with the army 
quartermaster at that post. For a few years previous 
to this, I had been ranching at the abandoned government 
post of Fort Aubrey (which I had strongly fortified 
against the Indians), and erecting stage stations every 
thirty-five or forty miles, wherever a suitable location 
could be found, about that distance apart, for the over- 
land stage line of Barlow, Sanderson & Company. This 
line started from Kansas City, Missouri, but branched off 
at Bent's old fort, the main line going to Santa Fe, New 
Mexico, and the branch to Denver, Colorado. After 
crossing the Arkansas river, the former wended its way 
southwest, over the Raton mountains, while the branch, 
following up the Arkansas to Pueblo, and from thence, 
the Fountain Gulch to Colorado Springs, crossed over the 
divide to Denver. 

— 33 — 



I was also furnishing these small stations with hay, 
cut in the river bottoms near each station, and I kept a 
small mule train constantly on the road, hauling grain 
from the Missouri river (we simply called it "the River'* 
those days, every one knowing, as a matter of course, that 
we meant the Missouri) to keep the stations supplied with 
feed for the stage stock. This is the way we built these 
stations. We first hunted a steep bank facing the south 
and the river — as the Arkansas ran east and west — and 
dug straight into this bank a suitable distance, wide 
enough to suit our convenience, and ten or twelve feet 
deep at the deepest place, with a gradual slope to the 
south of seven or eight feet. Now this formed three sides 
of an excavation, you understand, and only left the 
south opening exposed. This we built up with sod or 
adobes. The top we covered with poles laid across, and 
on the poles we placed hay, covering the whole business 
with dirt, and sloping it down with the natural fall of 
the ground. 

I had hard work to get men to keep these stations, as 
it was dangerous as well as lonely work. Indians were 
bad — not in regular open warfare, but occasionally mur- 
dering small parties, and we had to keep constantly on 
the lookout for them. One of the stations about twenty- 
five miles west of Aubrey, was called Pretty Encamp- 
ment. After much persuasion, I got a Dutchman by the 
name of Fred to keep this station. Fred was a big, burly 
devil, strong as an ox, but a big coward. He continually 
sent me word, by drivers, that he was going to quit, and, 
in consequence I had to ride up twenty-five miles every 
few days, to brag on him and encourage him to stay. 
Well, the Indians had lately been committing little devil- 
ments, and one morning I met Fred, a half-mile from the 
station, a horrible looking sight, blood all over him, his 
dirty shirt bloody and torn, and a big, sharp butcher- 
knife in his hand. He was terribly excited and almost 
raving, going on at a terrible rate, in broken English and 

— 34 — 



Dutch, flourishing his bloody knife and saying, ' ' G — d — 
him, the son of a b — ; I killed him — I cut his throat and 
his guts out!" I was sure he had killed an Indian. I 
said, "Fred, you have raised the devil. This will bring 
on an Indian war. Don't you know it is against orders 
from headquarters and the commander of the fort to kill 
an Indian or shoot at him first, under any circumstances ? 
(And so it was, a standing order). Let's go see about it." 

We went up, and the house looked like a tornado had 
struck it. The roof was torn partly off, the room covered 
with blood, the bed broken down, the old furniture 
smashed, and everything in disorder, while in the midst 
of all this lay a big dead bull buffalo. You see, there was 
some hay sticking up from the covering of the roof, and 
some time before day, an old bull had crept down on this 
roof after the hay, and had broken through, one foot 
first. It struck Fred, who was soundly sleeping, and, 
with the noise and dirt falling upon him, suddenly awak- 
ened him. He grabbed the foot and leg and, feeling the 
hair on it, it scared him to death, and being a powerful 
man, he held on to the leg and foot, like grim death to a 
nigger's heel, thinking the devil had got him. Then they 
fought and struggled in the dark, until, at last, the 
buffalo fell through, and still Fred did not know what 
it was. But his butcher-knife was under his pillow, and 
he grabbed it and went to cutting and slashing. 

Whenever I thought of it afterwards, I had to laugh 
at his actions and looks when he met me. But I could get 
him to stay at Pretty Encampment no longer, and well 
he did not, for, less than a week afterwards, two drivers 
of teams I had just sold, for the purpose of hauling sup- 
plies to these ranches, were killed within two miles of 
ithis ranch, and the mules and harness stolen. Fortun- 
ately, Fred had not yet been replaced with another stock 
I tender or he would have been killed. 

Not among the least of the hardships and dangers 
incident to the early pioneer of the southwest was the 

— 35 — 



** Kansas blizzard;" like all the storms in the arid belt, a 
great majority of them were local, but nevertheless severe 
and terrible in their destructive fury, A blizzard is 
defined as "a fierce storm of bitter, frosty wind, with 
fine, blistering snow." No definition, however, save that 
of actual experience, can define its terrible reality. I 
have witnessed a change in temperature from seventy- 
four degrees above zero to twenty degrees below in 
twenty-four hours, and during this time the wind was 
blowing a gale, apparently from the four points of the 
compass. The air was so full of the fine, blistering snow 
and sand that one could not see ten feet in advance. 
Turn either way, and it is always in front. The air is 
full of subdued noises, like the wail of lost spirits; so 
all-absorbing in its intensity is this wailing, moaning, con- 
tinuous noise, that one 's voice cannot be heard two yards 
away. The historical blizzards of 1863, 1866, 1873 and 
1888, were general, embracing a very large area of coun- 
try. The early pioneers were, of necessity, nomadic, and 
were in no way prepared for these sudden changes; and 
hundreds have lost their lives by suffocating in blizzards 
when the temperature was not zero, it being a physical 
impossibility to breathe, the air being so full of fine, blis- 
tering snow and said. 

The spirit of the blizzard, as the background to pic- 
tures of the wild west, in early days, is well brought out 
in Eugene Ware's vivid little poem, "The Blizzard." 

*'The fiddler was improvising; at times, he would cease 

to play, 
Then, shutting his eyes, he sang and sang, in a wild, 

ecstatic way; 

Then, ceasing his song, he whipped and whipped the 
strings with his frantic bow, 

Releasing impatient music, alternately loud and low; 

Then, writhing and reeling, he sang as if he were dream- 
ing aloud, 

— 36-- 



And wrapping the frenzied music around him like a 

shroud ; 
And this is the strange refrain, which he sang in a minor 

key, 
'No matter how long the river, the river will reach the 



sea. 



''It was midnight on the Cimarron, not many a year ago; 
The blizzard was whirling pebbles and sand, and billows 

of frozen snow: 
He sat on a bale of harness, in a dugout roofed with clay ; 
The wolves overhead bewailed, in a dismal, protracted 

way; 
They peeped down the 'dobe chimney, and quarreled and 

sniffed and clawed ; 
But the fiddler kept on with his music, as the blizzard 

stalked abroad; 
And, time and again, that strange refrain came forth in 

a minor key, 
'No matter how long the river, the river will reach the 

sea.' 

"Around him, on boxes and barrels, uncharmed by the 

fiddler's tune. 
The herders were drinking and betting their cartridges 

on vantoon; 
And, once in awhile, a player, in spirit of reckless fun. 
Would join in the fiddler's music, and fire off the fiddler's 

gun. 
An old man sat on a sack of corn and stared with a 

vacant gaze ; 
He had lost his hopes in the Gypsum Hills, and he thought 

of the olden days. 
The tears fell fast when the strange refrain came forth 

in a minor key, 
*No matter how long the river, the river will reach the 



sea.' 



— 37 — 



''At morning the tempest ended, and the sun came back 

once more; 
The old, old man of the Gypsum Hills had gone to the 

smoky shore ; 
They chopped him a grave in the frozen ground where the 

Morning sunlight fell; 
With a restful look he held in his hand an invisile 

asphodel ; 
They filled up the grave, and each herder said, *Good-by 

till the judgment day.' 
But the fiddler stayed, and he sang and played, as the 

herders walked away — 
A requiem in a lonesome land, in a mournful minor key — 
'No matter how long the river, the river will reach the 



sea.' " 



As an illustration of the terrible nature of a Kansas 
blizzard in early times, another poem may be quoted, 
which describes a real experience, in the neighborhood 
of Dodge City, by some cowboys on the trail. This poem 
is written by Henry IC. Fellow, the cowboy poet of 
Oklahoma, and is used in this work by special permission 
of the author. 

PASSING OF THE WEANGLER. 

"Wrangle up yer broncks, Bill, 
Let us hit the trail; 
Cinch 'em up a knot er two, 
'Fore there comes a gale. 

"Fill the wagon full o' chuck, 
'Fore we cut adrift; 
Fer we '11 have a time, Bill 

With this winter shift. : 

I 

"My bones they feel a blizzard , 

A hatchin' in the west, I 

An' I must load my gizzard 
With some pizen-piker's best. 

— 38 — 



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*'Sam, git yer chips together, 
An' stack 'em in a box; 
An' gether np the tether, 

Hopes, shirts, an' dirty socks, 

''An' lash 'em to the cayuse, 

An' strap 'em tight an' strong; 
Fer we given to ha'f t' ride, Sam, 
Kase 'tseems they's sumthin' wrong. 

''Pards, see the clouds a shiftin'; 
They's given to turn a trick. 
An' make us go a driftin', 
Afore we reach the crick. 

"It's a hundred miles, ye know, boys, 
To reach the X camp, 
An' we'll ha'f to keep a rollin' 
Er we'll ketch a frosty cramp. 

"So skin the mules a plenty. 

With yer double triggered crack; 
An' keep the broncks a goin', 
Jist so ye know the track." 

So with a whoop an' holler, 

The rounders, full o' pluck, 
An' tanked up to the collar — 

With their wagon load o' chuck, 

They left the Dodge behind 'em, 

An' started fer the South, 
With the wind a blowin' 

A peck o' dirt a mouth. 

They skase could see the other 
Feller, lopin ' through the cloud ; 

Er hear nothin' but the thunder. 
An' the flappin' o' their shroud. 

Tumble weeds a rolling 

With a forty minit clip. 
An' the clouds a pilin' 

Up like a phantom ship. 

— 39 — 



With 'er double triggered action, 
The wind she turned her tail, 

An' kicked out all the suction 
Fer the souther's gale. 

She started into rainin', 
An' follered with a sleet; 

An' kept 'er speed a gainin', 
A throwin' down 'er sheet; 

Till everything wuz covered, 

A frozen glare o' ice; 
Yet still she closter hovered, 

An' pinched us like a vise. 

That blizzard came a peltin' 

With 'er frozen shot ; 
An' sich snow a driftin', 

I never have forgot ! 

We couldn't see a nothin', 
Ner hear a rounder croak; 

But the gurgle o' the pizen 
A puttin' us to soak. 

We kept the broncks a movin ', 
Frum bein' froze to death; 

While waitin' fer the niornin' 
To thaw us with his breath. 

But when the snowy mornin^ 
Had come in with his smile. 

He'd left a ghastly warnin' 
Fer many and many a mile. 

A thousand head of cattle. 
Caught driftin' with the storm. 

Were frozen, while a millin', 
A tryin' to keep warm. 

Poor Sammy, with the wagon, 
Wuz found a mile alone ; 

Wuz stuck adrift, an' frozen. 
An' harder 'n a stone. 

— 40 — 



or Bill, he froze his fingers, 
An' blistered up his face, 

Tryin' to pitch his ringers, 
An' a fightin' fer the ace. 

I fell into a canyon, 

With my cayuse an' my traps, 
An' shuffled fer the joker. 

With the cinchin' straps. 

I warmed myself a plenty 

A keepin' up the fight, 
A skinnin' ol' McGinty, 

Till a comin' of the light. 

Poor Sam ! he boozed a plenty, 

To stack 'im in a heap ; 
An' the devil swiped his ante. 

When he went to sleep. 

So Bill an' me together. 

Stood in silence by the wag- 
On, not a knowin' whether 
To swig another jag, 

'Er cut the cussed pizen 

That had foggled up our breath, 
An' kept our spirits risin', 

Without a fling o' death. 

So me an' Bill, we tackled 
The job without a drop, 

An' in the hill we hackled 
A grave with icy top. 

An' shuffled Sammy in it. 
An' banked 'im in with snow, 

An ' 'rected up a monument. 
To let the Nesters know 

We done our solemn dooty, 
An' planted 'im in style, 

With the whitest snow o' heaven 
Heaped on 'im in a pile. 

— 41 — 



Poor Bill! he sniffed a little 

When I lifted up my hat, 
An' let some weepin' splatter 

On Sammy's frozen mat. 

Sam wan't no idle rustler; 

No one could ride the range 
Better 'n he, ner brand 'em, 

Ner dip 'em fer the mange. 

His check book showed a balance, 

Fer a wrangler o' the stuff, 
Fer a hilpin' o' his mither 

No one could spake enough. 

His heart wuz where God put it ; 

His blood was always red; 
His mouth he alluz shut it, 

When troubles wuz ahead. 

An' if the storm wuz ragin', 

He rode the line alone, 
An' never once a stagin' 

Some other's stunt his own. 

Fer his larnin' he wuz known, 

Figgered with the letter X ; 
Never had to once be shown ; 

Wuz no mangy maverick. 

Set an' count a herd o' stars, 
Driftin' frum the hand o' God; 

Tell us all about the flowers 
Playin' bo-peep in the sod. 

Hope the jedge will let 'im thru. 
When he rounds up at the gate ; 

But, ol' pard, I'm fearin', though, 
Sam '11 be a little late. 

Peace be then to Sammy's ashes. 

Till the round up o' the race. 
When each wrangler's check book cashes 

What it's worth, an' at its face. 

— 42 — 



Speaking of blizzards, makes me think of John Riney 
who was one of the very first citizens to settle in Dodge 
City. He helped build the Santa Fe road into Dodge, 
and was also the first toll-gate keeper for the only bridge 
over the Arkansas for miles each way; which position 
he held for many years and was always found strictly 
honest in his receipts. Before this he was a freighter 
and froze both of his feet in our big blizzard of 1873, 
which crippled him for life. He now, (1913), resides 
peacefully on his big alfalfa farm, a short distance west 
of Dodge, and has raised a large family, all of whom 
are much respected citizens of Dodge City. 

As a closing word in this brief discussion of the 
blizzard in pioneer days, I will narrate one of the many 
experiences I have had with them. In the summer and 
fall of 1872 I was freighting supplies from Fort Dodge 
to Camp Supply, I. T. Up to the middle of December 
we had had no cold weather — plenty of grass all along the 
route. I loaded some twenty-mule wagons with corn, along 
about the twentieth of December, and the outfit crossed 
the river at Fort Dodge, and went into camp that night 
at Five-mile Hollow, about five miles from Fort Dodge. 
It had been a warm, pleasant day, and the sun dis- 
appeared in a clear sky. Along in the night the wind 
whipped around in the north, and a blizzard set in. By 
morning the draw that they were camped in was full of 
snow, and the air so full that one could not see from one 
wagon to the other. The men with the outfit were all old, 
experienced plainsmen, but the suddenness and severity 
of the storm rendered them almost helpless. They had 
brought along only wood enough for breakfast, and that 
I was soon exhausted. They then tried burning corn, but 
with poor success. As a last resort they began burning 
the wagons. They used economy in their fire, but the 
second day saw no prospect of a letting up of the storm, 
in fact, it was getting worse hourly. It was then that 
P. G. Cook, now living at Trinidad, and another whose 

— 43 — 



name escapes me, volunteered to make an effort to reach 
Fort Dodge, only five miles distant, for saccor. They 
bundled up in a way that it seemed impossible for them 
to suffer, and, each mounting a mule, started for the 
fort. The first few hours. Cook has told me, they guided 
the mules, and then recognizing that they were lost, they 
gave the animals a loose rein and trusted to their instinct. 
This was very hard for them to do, as they were almost 
convinced that they were going wrong all the time, but 
they soon got so numbed with the cold that they lost all 
sense of being. They reached the fort in this condition, 
after being out eight hours. They each had to be thawed 
out of their saddles. Cook, being a very strong, vigorous 
man, had suffered the least, and soon was in a condition 
to tell of the trouble of his comrades. Major E. B. Kirk, 
the quartermaster at the fort, immediately detailed a 
relief party, and, with Cook at their head, started for 
the camp. The storm by this time had spent itself, and 
the relief party, with an ample supply of wood, reached 
them without great hardship, and the entire outfit, minus 
the three wagons which had been burned for fuel, were 
brought back to the fort. Cook's companion was so 
badly frost-bitten that amputation of one of his limbs 
was necessary to save his life. 

In the winter of 1869 I made a contract with the 
settlers at Camp Supply to freight a trainload of goods I 
from Dodge to that point. I hurriedly caught up my 
cattle, and picked up what drivers I could find. So 
little time had I to prepare, and so scarce were hands, j 
that I was glad to get anyone that could handle a whip. | 
Of course I had a motley crevs^ — some good men and a few ? 
very worthless. Among the latter was one Jack Cobbin. \ 
Now Jack had been a scout during the war, down around ■ 
Fort Gibson and Fort Smith, and was as great a drunkard 
as ever drank from a bottle. The first night out we 
camped at Mulberry, about fifteen miles from Dodge. A 
little snow had fallen, and the night herders lost about 

— 44 — 



half the cattle. Of course the cattle drifted back to 
Dodge. Next morning I sent my extra hand and night 
herder back on the only two horses I had, and pulled one 
wing of the train ten miles on the divide half way between 
Mulberry and Rattlesnake creek, and went back and 
pulled the other wing up about nightfall. That night 
these cattle got away, but I found them next day and 
drove them over on a little spring creek three miles from 
the main road, where there was plenty of water, grass 
and shelter, and placed a guard with them. 

I will here have to anticipate a bit. I was loaded 
with several wagons of liquor. Jack Cobbin had been 
drunk ever since we had left Dodge, and I had broken 
every pipe-stem, quill or straw I could find, as this was 
the only means he could use to get the liquor out of the 
, barrels, after drilling a hole in the top, so I concluded 
I that I would take him along that night to relieve the 
I guard and keep him sober. About two hours before sun- 
down he and I started out to the cattle. The Indians 
were at war and killing everybody; so I supplied each 
man with a dozen rounds of cartridges, in case of a 
sudden attack, to be used until our ammunition could be 
got out of the mess wagon, with strict orders not to fire 
a gun, under any circumstances, unless at an Indian. 
Well, we had gone about two miles in the direction of the 
cattle when Jack began to lag behind, and pretty soon a 
jackrabbit jumped up and Cobbin blazed away at it. I 
went back to chide him, when I found he had something 
slushing in the coffee pot he was carrying with his 
blankets. I asked him what it was, and he said water. 
I said: ''Throw it out; you are a bright one to carry 
(water to a creek. '^ He said: ''Maybe we won't find any 
i creek. " I told him that if we did not find the creek we 
9 would not find the cattle. So he went on with the 
coffee pot slushing, slushing, and I cursing him, and 
ti ordering him to throw it out. At last we reached the 

— 45 — 



creek and relieved the other boys. I went at once to 
round up the cattle. 

"When I got back it was late and very dark and the 
fire nearly out. Jack was sound asleep. I built up a 
big fire and sat down to enjoy it. After sitting some 
time I awakened Jack, but he refused to go out to the 
cattle. I felt very uneasy and went again myself. I 
found that the cattle had stopped grazing and wanted to 
ramble. I stayed with them several hours, until it was 
almost impossible to hold them alone, and then went back 
after Jack, but found him too drunk to be of any assist- 
ance. Then I found out what was in the coffee pot. It 
was whisky which he had drawn with his mouth out of 
the barrels and spit into the coffee pot. I kicked the pot 
over, which very much enraged him and he tried to kill 
me, but I was too quick for him and disarmed him. I 
went back to the cattle, and after awhile got them quiet 
and they lay down. I then went back and rebuilt the fire. 
When I had my back turned to get some more wood the 
devil threw a handful of big cartridges on the fire. Part 
of them exploded almost in my face, and the creek 
being situated in a little canyon with high rocky walls on 
each side, it sounded like heavy cannonading. I was 
frightened, for I thought if there were Indians in five 
miles they would certainly hear this and pounce down 
upon us next day. I did not feel like killing Jack when 
he tried to shoot me for kicking his pot of whisky over, 
but I was sorely tempted then. I said to him: ''My 
hearty, I won't kill you now, but I will surely get even 
with you." 

Next morning we drove in by daylight and strung 
out one wing of wagons for Rattlesnake creek. When 
they were about three miles away, Major Dimond came 
along, in command of several companies of the Nineteenth 
Kansas cavalry and asked for whisky. I said: ''You 
are too late; yonder go the wagons containing all the 

— 46 — 



whisky. I sent them off on purpose to keep my friend 
Jack Cobbin sober,'' pointing to Jack, who replied: 
"Major Dimond, how are you? I was your old scout 
at Fort Gibson. If you will loan me your horse and 
canteen I will get you some whisky." Nearly a dozen 
of the officers unstrung their canteens and handed them 
to Jack, and the column was halted until his return, 
and he came back with every canteen loaded. Each 
officer took a hearty pull and asked me to join them, but 
I said I never drank when I was out in the cold. I 
thought, ''Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." 

We drew up the other wing that afternoon in a nice 
little sheltered, heavily wooded grove, under the bank of 
the creek, where the cook had stretched wagon-sheets and 
prepared a nice dinner, in the midst of a terrible snow- 
storm. The lost cattle arrived at the same time we did; 
so I put Cobbin on one of the horses and sent him out 
on day herd, while we sat down to dinner. Along in the 
afternoon I sent a man to relieve him. One of the men 
saw him coming and dropped a couple of cartridges in the 
fire just where he thought Jack would hover over to 
warm; and sure enough he hardly spread his hands 
to the cheering fire when one cartridge went off and as 
he turned, the other gave him a parting salute. That 
night, just as supper was ready. Jack retaliated by 
throwing another handful of cartridges into the fire, and 
blew our supper all to flinders. We held a council of 
war, and a majority decided to kill him. The extra hand 
and cook swore they would. The extra said he would take 
it upon himself to do the shooting, but I finally persuaded 
them out of the notion. 

That night it cleared off, and we pulled over to Bluff 
creek, at the foot of Mount Jesus, only a few miles away. 
I again put Cobbin on night herd. The clouds had rolled 
away and the new moon was shining brightly. The air 
was balmy and springlike. My extra hand and I were 

— 47 — 



sitting up, smoking and enjoying the fine night, with a 
nice fire on the side of the bank, and the creek below us, 
when we heard a disturbance at one of the whisky wagons. 
The extra hand went to see about it, and brought in 
Cobbin, pretty full, as usual. I upbraided him for not 
being with the cattle, but to no use, and finally he lay 
down in front of the fire on the bank above and went 
to sleep. The extra said : ''Now is the time." Jack wore 
a long, blue, homespun coat, which reached nearly to his 
heels, with pockets as far down as the coat, in which he 
kept his cartridges. We gently pulled the tails out from 
under him and built a fire of dry cottonwood chips on 
top of his cartridges, and placed a big wet rag above this, 
so that the fire would be cut off from the balance of his 
clothing. In course of time the chips were live coals, and 
then the cartridges began to explode and awaken him. He 
rolled from the top of the bank right through that fire 
and plumb into the creek. Scrambling out, he said, *'I 
reckon I laid most too close to the fire." The extra hand 
told him, ''He reckoned he did," and what was more, 
"if he ever caught him at those barrels again he would 
kill him;" and the extra being a very determined man, 
Jack knew he would. We had no more trouble with him 
on the trip. 



I 



— 48 — 




RoHERT M. Wright. 1880 



CHAPTER III 
Ranching in Early Days 

The ranches in those days were few and far between. 
Beyond the Grove were Peacock's ranch, at Cow creek, 
Alison's ranch, at Walnut creek, and also that of William 
Griffinstein, with whom I afterward had the pleasure to 
serve in the house of representatives. The following is 
a true story of the fate of Peacock, as related to me a 
few years after his death. Peacock kept a whisky ranch 
on Cow creek. He and Satank, the great war chief of the 
Kiowas, were great friends and chums, as Peacock knew 
the sign language well. He had quite a large ranch and 
traded with the Indians, and, of course, supplied them 
with whisky. In consequence, the soldiers were always 
after him. Satank was his confidential friend and look- 
out. He had to cache his whisky and hide it in every con- 
ceivable manner, so that the troops would not find it. 
In fact, he dreaded the incursions of the soldiers much 
more than he did the Indians. One day Satank said to 
him: '' Peacock, write me a nice letter that I can show 
to the wagon bosses and get all the chuck I want. Tell 
them I am the great war chief of the Kiowas, and ask 
them to give me the very best in the shop." 

Peacock said, ''All right, Satank," and sat down and 
penned this epistle: "This is Satank, the biggest liar, 
beggar, and theif on the plains. What he can't beg of you 
he will steal. Kick him out of your camp, as he is a lazy, 
good-for-nothing Indian. ' ' 

Satank presented his letter several times to passing 
trains, and, of course, got a very cool reception, or rather 
a warm one. One wagon boss blacksnaked him, after 
which indignity he sought a friend, and said to him: 
''Look here! Peacock promised to write me a good letter, 
but I don't understand it. Every time I present it the 

— 49 — 



wagon boss gives me the devil. Read it, and tell me just 
what it says." His friend did so, interpreting it literally. 
''All right," said Satank, and the next morning at day- 
light he took some of his braves and rode to Peacock's 
ranch. He called to Peacock, ''Get up; the soldiers are 
coming. ' ' The summons was quickly obeyed. Seizing his 
field-glass. Peacock ran to the top of his lookout, and the 
instant he appeared, Satank shot him full of holes, 
exclaiming as he did so, "Good-by Mr. Peacock; I guess 
you won't write any more letters." 

Then they went into the building and killed every 
man present, except one, a sick individual, who was lying 
in one of the rooms, gored through the leg by a buffalo. 
All that saved him was that the Indians were very super- 
stitious about entering apartments where sick men lay, 
for fear they might have the smallpox, which disease they 
dreaded more than any other. 

I came from the mountains in the spring of 1864 to 
Spring Bottom, on the Arkansas river. The Cheyennes, 
Arapahoes and Kjowas were committing many depreda- 
tions along the Arkansas that summer. 

Shortly after our arrival, my partner, Joe Graham, 
went to Fort Lyon after supplies to stand a siege, as we 
expected daily to be attacked, the hired man and myself 
remaining at the ranch to complete our fortifications. 
On the night of Graham's return I started for Point of 
Rocks, a famous place on the Arkansas, twenty miles 
below our ranch, to take a mule which he had borrowed 
to help him home with his load. 

The next morning at daylight our ranch was attacked 
by about three hundred Indians, but the boys were sup- 
plied with arms and ammunition, and prepared to stand 
a siege. After they had killed one Indian and wounded 
a number of their ponies, the savages became more care- 
ful ; they tried by every means in their power to draw 
the boys outside; they even rode up with a white flag 

— 50-- 



and wanted to talk. Then they commenced to tell in 
Spanish, broken English, and signs, that they did not 
want to hurt the boys; they simply wanted the United 
States mail stock ; and if it was given up they would go 
away. When this modest demand was refused, they 
renewed their attack with greater fury than ever before. 

My wife and two children were with me at the 
ranch at the time, and, at the commencement of the 
fight, Mrs. Wright placed the little ones on the floor 
and covered them over with feather beds; then she loaded 
the guns as fast as the boys emptied them. She also 
knocked the clinking from between the logs of the build- 
ing, and kept a sharp lookout on the movements of the 
Indians. Often did she detect them crawling up from 
the opposite side to that on which the boys were firing. 
Upon this information the boys would rush over to where 
she had seen them, and by a few well-directed shots make 
them more than glad to crawl back to where they had 
come from. This was long before the days of the modern 
repeating rifle, and of course they had only the old- 
fashioned muzzle-loaders. 

For about seven hours the Indians made it very 
warm for the boys ; then they got together and held a big 
powwow, after which they rode off up the river. The 
boys watched them with a spy-glass from the top of the 
building until they were satisfied it was not a ruse on 
the part of the savages, but that they had really cleared 
out. 

Graham then took my wife and two children, placed 
them in a canoe, and started down the Arkansas, which 
was very high at the time. The hired man saddled a colt 
that had never before been riden, and left for the Point 
of Rocks. Strange as it may seem, this colt appeared to 
know what was required of him, and he ran nearly the 
whole distance — twenty miles — ^in less than an hour and a 
half. He was the only animal out of sixteen head that 

— 51^ 



was saved from the vengeance of the Indians. He was 
a little beauty, and I really believe that the savages 
refrained from killing him because they thought they 
would eventually get him. He was saved in this manner : 
After the attack had been progressing for a long time and 
there came a comparative lull in the action, my wife 
opened the door a little to see what the Indians were up 
to, while the boys were watching at the loopholes; the 
colt observed Mrs. Wright, made a rush toward her, and 
she, throwing the door wide open, the animal dashed into 
the room and remained there quiet as a lamb until the 
battle was over. 

' The Indians killed all our mules, horses and hogs — 
we had of the latter some very fine ones — a great number 
of our chickens, and shot arrows into about thirty cows, 
several of which died. The majority of them recovered, 
however, although their food ran out of the holes in their 
sides for days and weeks until the shaft of the arrows f 
dropped off, but, of course, the iron heads remained in 
their paunches ; still they got well. f 

I had just saddled my horse, ready to start back to 
the ranch, when the hired man arrived, bringing the terri- 
ble news of the fight. He told me that I would find my 
wife and children somewhere on the river, if the savages 
had not captured them. "For my part," he said, "I am 
going back to my people in Missouri; I have had enough." 
He was a brave man, but a "tenderfoot," and no wonder 
the poor fellow had seen enough. His very soul had been 
severely tried that day. I at once called for volunteers, 
and a number of brave frontiersmen nobly responded; 
there were only two or three, however, who had their 
horses ready; but others followed immediately, until our 
number was swelled to about a dozen. A wagon an4 
extra horses brought up the rear, to provide means of 
transportation for my wife and little ones. 

— 52 — 



When we had traveled thirteen miles, having care- 
fully scanned every curve, bend, and sand-bar in the 
stream, we discovered Graham, Mrs. Wright, and the 
children about two miles ahead, Graham (God bless 
him!) making superhuman effort to shove the boat along 
and keep it from upsetting or sinking. They saw us at 
the same moment, but they immediately put to cover on 
a big island. We shouted and waved our hats, and did 
everything to induce them to come to us, but in vain, 
for, as they told us afterwards, the Indians had tried 
the same maneuvers a dozen times that day, and Graham 
was too wary to be caught with chaff. At last Mrs. 
Wright recognized a large, old, white hat I was wearing, 
and she told Graham that it was indeed her husband, 
Robert. When they reached the bank, we took them out 
of the canoe more dead than alive, for the frail, leaky 
craft had turned many times; but Graham and Mrs. 
Wright, by some means, had always righted it, and thus 
saved the little children. \ 

A party went with me to our ranch the next day, 
and we witnessed a scene never to be forgotten; dead 
horses, dead hogs, dead cows and dead chickens piled one 
upon another in their little stockade. Two small colts 
were vainly tugging at their lifeless mothers' teats; a 
sad sight indeed, even to old plainsmen like ourselves. 
Both doors of the building were bored so full of bullet 
holes that you could hardly count them, as they lapped 
over each other in such profusion. Every window had at 
least a dozen arrows sticking around it, resembling the 
quills on a porcupine. The ceiling and walls inside the 
room were filled with arrows also. We thought we would 
follow up the trail of the savages, and while en route we 
discovered a government ambulance, wrecked, and its 
driver, who had been killed, with two soldiers and citi- 
zens, so horribly butchered and mutilated that the details 
are too horrible and disgusting to appear in print. They 

■ \ 



had also captured a woman and carried her off with them, 
but the poor creature, to put an end to her horrible suf- 
fering, hung herself to a tree on the banks of a creek 
northeast of where the Indians had attacked the ambu- 
lance. In consequence of her act, the savages called the 
place White Woman. The little . stream bears that name 
today; but very few settlers, however, know anything of 
its sad origin (it was on this creek, some years later, 
that the gallant Major Lewis met his death wound at the 
hands of the Indians, while bravely doing his duty). 

After the fight at Spring Bottom, I moved down to 
Fort Aubrey, where, in conjunction with Mr. James 
Anderson, I built a fine ranch. At that place we had 
numerous little skirmishes, troubles, trials, and many 
narrow escapes from the Indians. While at Aubrey, I ' 
had my experience with Fred and the bull buffalo, as 
described in a previous chapter. 

Just before I moved from Aubrey, J. F. Bigger and || 
I had a sub-contract to furnish hay at Fort Lyon, seventy- 
five miles west of Aubrey. While we were preparing to 
move up to go to work, a vast herd of buffalo stampeded 
through our range one night and took off -with them 
about half of our work cattle. The next day the stage- 
driver and conductor told us they had seen a few of our 
cattle about twenty-five miles east of Aubrey. This 
information gave me an idea in which direction to hunt 
for them, and I started after the missing beasts, while my 
partner took those that remained and a few wagons and 
left for Fort Lyon. 

I will interpolate here the statement that the Indians 
were supposed to be peaceable, although small war parties 
of young men, who could not be controlled by their chiefs, 
were continually committing depredations, while the 
main body of the savages were very uneasy, expecting to 
go out any day. In consequence of this threatening aspect 
of affairs, there had been a brisk movement of troops 

— 54 — 




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stationed at the various military posts, a large number of 
whom were supposed to be on the road from Denver to 
Fort Lyon. 

I took along with me some ground coffee, filled my 
saddle-bags with jerked buffalo and hardtack, a belt of 
cartridges, my rifle and six-shooter, field-glass and 
blankets, and was ready for any emergency. The first 
day out I found a few of the lost cattle, and placed 
them on the river bottom, which I continued to do as 
fast as I recovered them, for a distance of about eighty- 
five miles down the Arkansas, where I met a wagon train. 
The men told me I would find several more with the 
train that had made the crossing of the Cimarron the 
day before. I came up to this train in a day's travel 
south of the river, got my cattle, and started next morn- 
ing for home. I picked up my cattle on the river where 
I had left them, as I went along, and, having made a 
tremendous day's travel, about sundown concluded to go 
into camp. I had hardly stopped before the cattle began 
to drop down, so completely tired out were they, as I 
thought. 

Just as it was growing dark, I happened to look 
toward the west, and saw several fires on a big island 
near what was called the Lone Tree, about a mile from 
where I had halted for the night. Thinking they were 
camp-fires of the soldiers I had heard were on the road 
from Denver, and anticipating and longing for a good 
cup of coffee, as I had had none for five days, and besides 
feeling very lonesome, knowing, too, the troops would be 
full of news, I felt good, and did not think or dream of 
anything else than my fond anticipation; in fact, was so 
wrapped up in my thoughts I was literally oblivious to 
my surroundings. I was wild to hear the news and 
wanted a good supper, which I knew I would get in the 
soldiers' camp. 

— 55^ 



The Arkansas was low, but the bank was steep, with 
high, rank grass growing to the very waters' edge. I 
found a buffalo trail cut through the steep bank, very 
narrow and precipitous. Down this I went, and arrived 
within a little distance of my supposed soldiers' camp. 
When I got in the middle of a deep cut I looked across 
to the island, and saw a hundred little fires and something 
less than a thousand savages huddled around them. 

I slid back off my horse and by dint of great exer- 
tion worked him up the river bank as quietly and quickly 
as possible, then led him gently away out on the prairie. 
My first impulse was not to go back to the cattle ; but 
we needed them very badly; so I concluded to return to 
them, putting them on their feet mighty lively, without 
any noise. Then I started them, and, oh, dear, I was 
afraid to tread on a w^eed lest it would snap and bring 
the Indians down on my trail. Until I had put several 
miles between them and me I could not rest easy for a 
minute ; and tired as I was, tired as were my horse and 
the cattle, I drove them twenty-five miles before I halted. 
Then daylight was upon me and I lay down and fell 
asleep. I was at what is known as Choteau's Island, a 
once famous place on the old Santa Pe trail. 

Of course I had to let the cattle and my horse rest 
and fill themselves until the afternoon, but I did not 
sleep any longer myself. As I thought it was dangerous 
to remain too near the cattle, I walked up a big, dry sand 
creek that ran into the river at that point, and, after I had 
ascended it a couple of miles, found the banks very steep ; 
in fact, they rose to a height of eighteen or twenty feet, 
and were sharply cut up by narrow trails made by the 
buffalo. Here I had an exciting adventure Avith a herd 
of buffalo, but will reserve the account of it for another 
chapter. Nothing further, of note, happened during the 
afternoon, and, resuming my journey, I finally arrived 
at the ranch without mishap. 

^56 — 



The day after I arrived at home I was obliged to 
start to Fort Lyon with fourteen or fifteen yoke of cattle 
and four or five wagons. A Mr. Ward volunteered to 
accompany me ; and let me say right here, he was as 
brave a young man as it has ever been my fortune to 
know. He was true blue ; a chip of the old block ; a 
nephew of General Shelby; he might well be proud of his 
pluck. I coupled all the wagons together and strung 
all the fifteen yoke of oxen to them, and as young Ward 
could not drive the cattle he went along for company 
and helped me yoke up. We made eighteen miles the first 
day and stopped at Pretty Encampment, one of the most 
celebrated camping places on the old Santa Fe trail, 
located at the foot of Salt Bottom. We yoked up the 
next morning several hours before daylight, as the moon 
was shining brightly; we wanted to cross the bottom 
before we ate breakfast. A few miles from the head of 
the bottom the trail diverges, one cutting across the 
bluff and the other following the Arkansas; we were on 
the lower one. Presently the stage came along, lumbering 
over the bluff, stopped, and called to us. I went to it, 
only a few hundred yards over to the other trail, when 
who should I see but my partner, Mr. B. F. Bigger, and 
four or five other men in the coach, besides the driver. 
They all at once cried out, Bigger leading: "Go back 
with us, go back with us, or you will both be killed." I 
said: "Bigger, be a man; stop with us and defend your 
property; a lot of these cattle here belong to you; and 
besides you have a splendid rifle." He replied: "No, I 
must go to Aubrey to protect my wife and child." I 
answered: "My wife and children are there too, in one 
of the strongest little forts in the country, six or eight 
men with them, and plenty of arms and ammunition; all 
the Indians on the plains cannot take them." He said: 
"You don't know how many Indians there are; they 
stopped the coach, took what they wanted in the way of 
blankets and ammunition, two or three six-shooters they 

— 57 — 



found on the front seat, besides other things/' I asked 
him why they didn't take his rifle, and he replied: ''I 
reckon they would have done so, but we hid it." I said: 
*'I wish they had; if you won't stop with us, loan us your 
gun ; we have only one rifle and a six-shooter. ' ' He said : 
*'No, leave the cattle and go back with us; they will 
be down on you in a little while." "Well, wait until I 
see Ward," I answered. ''Be quick about it then," 
replied he. 

I went back to Ward and asked him what he wanted 
to do. I said : ''You have nothing to gain and all to lose. 
The people in the coach yonder say there are several 
hundred Indians above the bend; and while they are not 
actually on the warpath, they stopped the coach and 
robbed it, whipped the mules with their quirts until they 
got them on a dead run, then fired at them, and shot 
several arrows into the coach ; some are still sticking into 
the back of it." Ward asked me what I was going to do. 
I said that a man might as well be dead as to lose his prop- 
erty, and I proposed to stay with it; "Maybe we won't 
see an Indian." He replied: "I am going to stay with 
you." "God bless you for it," I said, "but it is asking 
too much of you." "Well, I am going to stay with you, 
anyhow." Then I motioned to the stage-driver to go on, 
and he did so right quickly. The cattle had all laid down 
in the yokes while we halted, but we soon hustled them 
up and started, feeling pretty blue. We first held a 
little consultation, and then moved all the ammunition to 
the first wagon, on which Ward was to sit. I gave him 
the rifle; I had on a six-shooter and a belt full of 
cartridges, and we agreed to let the Indians take the grub 
and the blankets if they came, but that we would stay by 
our guns and ammunition. Ward said he would never 
get off the box containing the ammunition. 

We had proceeded about two miles, were awfully 
tired and hungry, had just driven out of the road to 

— 58 — 



make a temporary camp, congratulating ourselves that 
we had missed the Indians, when here they came, two on 
their ponies at first. I said to Ward that we would lick 
these two; they dare not tackle us, but we had better 
keep right on and not go into camp. Ward raised his 
gun and motioned for them to keep off. They circled and 
went to the rear, when just over a little rise the whole 
business of them poured. I pounded away and yelled 
at the cattle to keep them moving, but there were so many 
Indians they blocked the road, and we came to a stand- 
still. They swarmed around us, and on all the wagons, 
but the front one ; this Ward kept them off of. They took 
all of our grub and rope, but nothing else. After string- 
ing their bows and making lots of threats and bluffs at 
us, they dropped a little behind and we drove off and left 
them. We hustled the cattle along five or six miles, 
when we came to a good place to water. Ward ran up 
on a bluff to see what had become of the savages, while 
I drove the cattle chained together to the river. Ward 
commenced to shout just as I reached the bank. The 
oxen got no water that day. I turned them around in a 
hurry, hitched on, and started. Ward said that the 
Indians were not more than three miles off, coming our 
way. We never made another halt until we were in sight 
of the lights on Commissary Hill, at old Fort Lyon, 
which we reached about one o'clock that night. I 
reported to the commanding officer the next morning, 
and we learned afterwards that these Indians had been 
on Sand creek to bury the bones of their dead who were 
killed in the Chivington fight several years before. 
Only a week after our escape there was a general out- 
break and war. 

In 1866 I went to Fort Dodge. Now, one might be 
inclined to think that the kind of life I had been leading — 
the hard experience — that a person would be anxious to 
abandon it at the first favorable opportunity; but this 
is not so. It gives one a zest for adventure, for it is a 

— 59 — 



sort of adventure that you become accustomed to; you 
get to like it ; in fact, there is a fascination about it no 
one can resist. Even to a brave man — God knows I make 
no pretension to that honor — there is a charm to the life 
he cannot forego, yet I felt an irresistible power and 
could not permit myself to give it up. 

Mr. A. J. Anthony and I bought out the Cimarron 
ranch, twenty-five miles west of Fort Dodge. The com- 
pany of which we purchased were heartily tired of the 
place, and eager to sell, for two of their number had 
been brutally murdered by the Indians while attempting 
to put up hay. Anthony was an old "Overland stage 
messenger," had seen lots of ups and downs with the 
Indians on the plains, and rather enjoyed them. So we 
got together some of the old-timers and went to making 
hay. Right there our troubles commenced. We both 
had seen a great deal of the Indians and their methods 
before; but we didn't realize what they could and would 
do when they took the notion. If we didn't see some 
of the savages every day it was a wonder ; and once that 
summer they actualh^ let us alone for four weeks. I 
remarked to my partner: ''There is something wrong in 
this; they must be sick." So they were. When they 
came in that winter and made a treaty, they told us the 
cholera had broken out among them, and the reason for 
their remaining away for so long a time was on account 
of the scourge. The cholera was perfectly awful that 
summer on the plains; it killed soldiers, government 
employees, Santa Fe traders and emigrants. Many new 
graves dotted the roadsides and camping places, making 
fresh landmarks. 

I remember tv/o soldiers coming up with the mail 
escort one night, who were severely reprimanded by their 
sergeant for getting drunk, at which they took umbrage, 
stole two horses and deserted the next day. One of 
them returned on foot about noon, stating that the 

— 60 — 



Indians had attacked them early in the morning, got their 
animals from the picket line, and shot his partner through 
the right breast; that he had left him on an island twelve 
miles up the river. Our cook had been complaining a 
little that morning, and when I went to his room to see 
him he said that he had dinner all ready, and would like 
to go along with us after the wounded soldier. I told 
him no ; to stay at home, go to bed, keep quiet, and above 
all else to drink very little cold well-water. The sergeant 
took six men and the escort wagon with him, and I fol- 
lowed on horseback. 

When we arrived opposite the island we hailed the 
soldier, and he came out of the brush. He walked up 
and down the river bank, and made signs to us that his 
right arm was useless, and he seemed to be in great pain. 
The sergeant called for volunteers, but not a man 
responded. The Arkansas Avas swimming full and the 
current was very swift in one place for about three 
hundred yards. It appeared that none of his comrades 
liked the fellow very well, one of them saying, when the 
sergeant asked for some one to go over, ''If he don't 
swim, or at least make an effort, he can stay, and I hope 
the Indians will get him." I said, ''Boys, this won't do ; 
I will get him," and after him I went. When I reached 
the island I sat down and reasoned with him; told him 
exactly what I required him to do. He seemed very 
grateful, and knew that I was risking my own life on 
him. He was a powerfully built fellow, and his wound 
had almost paralyzed his right side. He said: "Mr. 
Wright, I appreciate what you have done for me, and 
what you are about to undertake ; now, before God, I will 
let go my hold if I see you cannot make it." He stayed 
nobly by his promise. When we had gone under water 
several times, and the current was bearing us down, and it 
appeared that every minute would be our last, he said, 
in the despair of death: "I am going; let me go." I 
replied, "For God's sake, no; hold on." I then felt 

— 61 — 



inspired. I said to myself, this man has a grand nature; 
I am going to save him or sink with him. Indeed, all 
these thoughts flashed through my mind, and, as God is 
my judge, I would have done it, as at that moment I had 
no fear of death whatever. When I reached the bank I 
was completely exhausted and had to be helped out of 
the water. I was awfully sick ; it seemed that my strength 
had left me absolutely. It was fully an hour before I was 
strong enough to ride. 

Strange to say, I lay side by side with this poor man 
in the hospital at Fort Dodge, after his rescue. He was 
excessively kind and attentive, and when I began to con- 
valesce — for the same night I was stricken down with 
cholera — we exchanged drinks ; he took my brandy, I his 
ale. He would insist in saying that the cause of my sick- 
ness was the terrible exertion I had made that day in his 
behalf; but it was not so. When I got back to the ranch, 
after our ride up the river, our poor cook was in a terribly 
bad fix. I knew that he was gone the moment I saw him, 
although he was still sitting up and appeared cheerful, 
except when the cramps would seize him. I asked him 
what he had been drinking. He replied that his thirst 
was so intolerable that he drank a whole bucketful of 
canned lemonade. I said to him, ''My poor boy, make 
your peace with God ; tell me the address of your parents 
or friends.'* He answered: ''I have none; it makes no 
difference; I think I will pull through all right." In an 
hour he was dead. We were laying him out in the shade 
on the east side of the house, and I was in the act of 
tying up his jaws, when a breeze from the south seemed 
to enter his mouth and was wafted back into mine. I said 
then, ''There, boys, I have tasted the cholera from this 
poor fellow," and at once set about making my prepara- 
tions as to my business affairs and other matters. Before 
two o'clock in the morning I was down with the dreadful 
disease. Barlow, Sanderson, & Company, the proprietors 
of the "Overland Stage," to whom I had shown many 

— 62—. 




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favors, the moment they heard of my illness, sent an 
ambulance and escort of soldiers, and I was conveyed to 
the hospital at Fort Dodge. There, under the kind and 
careful treatment of Doctors De Graw and Wilson, I 
recovered. 

I must go back to the haymaking at the ranch. Day 
after day the Indians would harass us in some manner, 
but they had not yet succeeded in killing any of our men, 
although they repeatedly ran off our stock, fired into 
and broke up our camp, until even the old-timers, men 
in whom we had placed the utmost confidence and 
depended upon in case of emergency, began to grow tired. 
They said it was too monotonous for them. I don 't think 
they really understood the true definition of the word. 
Still we persisted, were hopeful, and continued to hire 
new men at from seventy-five to a hundred dollars a 
month for common hands ; we had to have hay. We con- 
sidered it no more than just to tell these new men, when 
we hired them, they would have to take desperate chances, 
and that was the reasons we were paying such large 
wages. Well, the Indians finally exhausted us of our 
horse stock, and we had to resort to ponies; but they 
were too small and we got along very slowly. We were 
compelled to purchase a big span of mules of the United 
States mail company, for which we paid six hundred 
dollars. Mr. Anthony was very proud of them, as he 
often sat behind them when he was a messenger on the 
overland routes. They were named Puss and Jennie. 
The first morning they were sent to the haystack Anthony 
was in the corral stacking. After a while he came to 
the house, looking as proud as a peacock, and said to me : 
''Hear that machine? Ain't Puss and Jennie making it 
hum?" But the sound did not seem natural to me, so I 
grabbed a spy-glass and ascended to the lookout on top 
of the building. Sure enough, just as I expected, I saw 
two Indians come up, one on each side of the mules, 
pounding them over the back with their bows, and they 

— 63 — 



were making it hum, while the boys in the camp were 
shooting as fast as they could load and fire, protecting 
the poor driver, who was running toward them for his 
life, with about two dozen of the red devils after him, 
whooping, yelling, and shouting as they charged upon 
him. The two Indians who attacked the driver of the 
mowing-machine had watched their opportunity, rushed 
out of the brush on the bank of the river, and were upon 
him before he had the slightest idea of their presence, 
and running off with the mules. His two revolvers were 
strapped upon the machine, and he could do nothing but 
drop off behind from his seat, leave his weapons, and 
run for his life. 

The government had ten men and a sergeant stationed 
at the ranch, on escort duty with the United States mail. 
One day w^hile the men were at dinner, and a soldier was 
on guard outside, whom I suspected was asleep at the 
time, two Indians, who had stolen a couple of old mules 
from the stage station forty miles above, rode by and 
fired at the sentinel, just for fun, I believe, or at least to 
wake him up, and then dashed down to the river, cross- 
ing close to a Mexican train. Quicker than thought they 
unsaddled their mules, threw them upon the backs of two 
freight horses that were picketed near, mounted them, 
and jumped off a steep bank five feet deep into the 
Arkansas and were over on the other side before the 
astonished Mexicans really knew what was going on. 

The day before the same train had left a lame steer 
out in the sand hills, and the w^agon boss sent one of the 
hands back after it that morning. As soon as the two 
Indians crossed the river they spied the Mexican with 
the lame ox and immediately took after him. From the 
top of my building, with an excellent glass, I could plainly 
see their whole maneuverings. The savages circled 
around the poor "greaser" again and again; charged 
him from the front and rear and on both sides, until I 

— 64 — 



actually thought they had ridden over him a dozen 
times, emptying their revolvers v^henever they made a 
charge. They would only halt long enough to reload, 
and then were after him again. During all these tactics 
of the Indians, the Mexican never made any attempt to 
return their fire; that saved his life and scalp. They 
wanted to compel him to empty his revolvers, and then 
they could run up and kill him. Of course, from the dis- 
tance, nearly two miles, I could not hear the report of the 
Indians' weapons, but I could see the smoke distinctly, 
and I knew that the Mexican had not fired a shot. 
Presently the poor fellow's horse w^ent down, and he lay 
behind it for awhile Then he cut tthe girth, took off 
the saddle, and started for the river, running at every 
possible chance, using the saddle as a shield, stopping to 
show fight only when the savages pressed him too closely ; 
then he would make another stand, with the saddle set 
up in front of him. After a few more unsuccessful 
charges, the Indians left him. When he had arrived 
safely at the train, they asked him why he had not fired 
a shot when the Indians rode so close to him. He stated 
if he had a thousand shots he would have fired them all, 
but in crossing the river that morning his horse had to 
swim and his revolver got wet (the cartridges Avere 
the old-fashioned kind, made of paper, and percussion 
caps the means of priming). It was fortunate, perhaps; 
for if the Indians had surmised that his revolver would 
not go off, they would have had his scalp dangling at 
their belts in short order. 

The Indians had given us a respite at the ranch for 
awhile (I refer to the time I have mentioned when they 
were attacked by the cholera). We had recruited up 
considerably, were in high hopes, and had started in 
fresh, as it were, when one morning they swooped dow^n 
upon us again to the number of two thousand, it appeared 
to me ; but there was not that many, of course ; still they 
were thick enough. It looked as if both of the banks of 

— 65 — 



the Arkansas were alive with them, as well as every hill 
and hollow. There were Indians everywhere. Our men 
were all in the hay field, with the exception of two, and 
my partner, Mr. Anthony, was with them. Anthony was 
a cool, brave man ; knew exactly what to do and when to 
act. I think that his presence saved the party. I could 
see the whole affair from the lookout. As soon as the 
firing began we could see our watchman, who was sta- 
tioned on a bluff, and his horse ran away and threw him,, 
but he managed to get to the boys in the field. Wo were 
using two wagons with four yoke ol cattle to each. The 
wagons were about half loaded, and the boys had to fly 
and leave them standing. The Indians set the hay on 
fire, then opened with a shower of arrows upon the 
steers, and started them on a run, scared out of their 
senses. We found them after the thing was over, all 
dead in a string, chained together as they had been at 
work. The savages had lots of fun out of their running 
the poor brutes around the bottoms while the hay on the 
wagons. was burning. At the first attack the men all got 
together^ as quickly as possible and made for the camp, 
which was on the bank of the river. A hundred or more 
Indians charged them so close that it appeared they 
would ride over them, but whenever our boys made a 
stand and dropped on their knees and began to deliber- 
ately shoot, they would shy off like a herd of frightened 
antelope. This, they kept up until they reached the 
river, over half a mile from where they started in the 
field, then they made for a big island covered with a 
dense growth of willows ; there they hid, remaining until 
after dark. We at the ranch formed little parties repeat- 
edly and tried to go to their relief by hugging the river 
bank, but at every attempt were driven back by an over- 
whelming number of savages. 

The Indians charged upon our men in the willows 
many times during the day, in their efforts to dislodge 
them, and so close did some of them come on their ponies 

— 66 — 




R. M. Wright, 1875 



that any of the boys by a single spring could have grabbed 
their bridle-reins. Although they might have killed sev- 
eral of the savages, the latter would have eventually over- 
powered them, and cruelly butchered the last one of them. 
To show how cool and brave a man old Anthony was, and 
what stuff the men were made of, he passed many a joke 
around among the boys. There was a stern, reticent vet- 
eran in the group, whose pipe was seldom out of his 
mouth excepting when he was asleep. Anthony would 
repeatedly hand him his pipe and tobacco, and say: 
"Brother Tubbs, take a smoke; I am afraid there is some- 
thing wrong with you; have you given up the weed?" 
Tubbs would reply: ''If we don't be getting out of here, 
we w^on't be making those ten loads of hay today, and 
you will lose your bet." Anthony had wagered with some 
one that they would haul ten loads of hay that day. 
These and similar jokes passed between them all the 
while, while they were surrounded by hundreds of sav- 
ages, many of them within five or six steps very fre- 
quently; the least false move on the part of the besieged, 
and none of them would have lived as long as it takes me 
to write this. About three o'clock that afternoon we 
heard firing both above and below us. The Indians had 
attacked the United States paymaster coming up the 
river, and several companies of soldiers coming down, 
and gave them a hot fight, too, compelling them to go 
into corral, and holding them for several hours. 

These constant swirmishes kept up till late in the 
fall; in November and December, 1868, the Indians made 
a treaty. I then sent for my family, who were in Missouri. 
A short time after their arrival, one Sunday morning, 
during a terrible snowstorm, and no help at the ranch 
but two stage drivers and a Mexican boy, I threw open 
the large double doors of the storeroom, and, before I 
could even think, in poped forty Indians, all fully armed, 
equipped, and hideous with their war paint on. I thought 
to myself, ''Great God, what have I done; murdered my 

— 67 — 



wife and little ones !" We had to use strategem ; resistance 
would have been useless. The stack of guns was in the 
corner behind the counter, in a passageway leading to 
the dwelling-house, or in the part of the building in which 
I lived. I called to the Mexican boy, in an adjoining 
apartment, to get his revolver and hold the door at ail 
hazards; to put the guns one at a time inside of the sitting 
room, and to shoot the first Indian who attempted to get 
over the counter; to tell the savages what I had ordered, 
in Spanish, and that I would remain with them and take 
my chances. Everything worked to a charm, except that 
the Indians commenced beating the snow off of them and 
laying aside their accouterments. I said to the boy: 
''Tell them, in Spanish, this won't do; they could not stay 
in here; this is the soldiers' room; but they must follow 
me out into a larger, warmer room where we would cook 
them some chuck." This he accomplished by signs and 
in Spanish, as rapidly as God would let him. I said : 
"When the last one is out, jump quickly and double-bar 
the door; it is our only chance." I thought the reason 
why the Indians acted so coolly was that they believed 
they had a ''dead cinch" on us, and were in no hurry to 
commence action. 

As soon as the boy had finished talking to them they 
turned and followed me out. One of them took hold of 
me with many a sign and gesture, but as I could only 
understand the sign language a little, barely enough to 
trade with the Indians, I was at this moment so excited 
that I hardly understood English. The savage then led 
me back to the door and signed for me to open it. I shook 
my head and said: "Oh, no, old fellow; not for all the 
gold in the Rocky Mountains would I open that door 
again ; my dearest treasures on earth are in there, and as 
long as these doors are closed that long they are safe ; 
but God only knows how long they will remain so." At 
my refusal he immediately began to abuse me most out- 
rageously ; spat in my face, and went on like a madman ; 

— 68 — 



more than once he reached for his revolver, and, of 
course, I thought my time had surely come. The Mexican 
boy, having heard the rumpus, slipped out of the back 
door and came around the house to see what vras up. I 
said to him: ''Placido, what does he mean?" Placido 
commenced to smile (the first beam of sunshine I had 
seen since the entrance of the savages), and he replied: 
*'0h, that is all right ; he left his bow in there, and because 
yon won't open the door thinks you want to steal it." 
' * Tell him I will get it ; and, now you have got him in 
good humor, ask him what they all want and what they 
are after, and tell me." When I returned Placido and the 
savages were talking like old chums. The boy said: 
"No danger, we are all right; this is a party of young 
bucks going to the mountains to steal horses from the 
Utes. " This intelligence was a burden lifted, and I felt 
as if I could fall down and worship the great God who 
created me. I said: "Bring out the fatted calf; feed 
them to their hearts' content, and until their bellies pop 
out like pizened pups ; until their very in 'ards are made 
to cry, 'Enough!' and want no more." Instead of the 
fatted calf we cooked them several camp kettles full of 
bacon and beans, many of the same full of coffee, two 
gallons of black molasses, plenty of sugar, and a box of 
hardtack. They feasted, and went on their way rejoicing. 

The ultimate fate of the old ranch was, that the 
Indians burnt it, together with several hundred tons of 
hay, the day after Mr. Anthony abandoned it, by order 
of Major Douglas, commanding Fort Dodge. 



— 69 



CHAPTER IV 

The Greatest Game Country on Earth. 
Of course, it was not always fight and run, run and 
fight; we had our fun, too. One day a stage driver, 
Frank Harris, and myself started out after buffalo. They 
were very scarce, for a wonder, and we were very hungry 
for fresh meat. The day was fine, and we rode a long 
way, expecting sooner or later to rouse up a bunch. Late 
in the afternoon we gave it up, and started for home. Of 
course, we did not care to save our ammunition; so we 
shot away at everything in sight — skunks, rattlesnakes, 
prairie dogs, and so on — until we had only a few cart- 
ridges left. Suddenly up jumped an old bull that had 
been lying down in one of those sugar-loaf shaped sand 
hills, with the top hollowed out by the action of the wind. 
Harris emptied his revolver into him, and so did I, but 
the old fellow stood suddenly still on top of the sand hill, 
bleeding profusely at the nose, but persistently refusing 
to die, although he would repeatedly stagger and nearly 
topple over. It was getting late, and we could not wait 
for him, so Harris said: "I will dismount, creep up 
behind him, and cut his hamstrings with my butcher 
knife," the bull by this time having laid down. Harris 
commenced his forward movement, but it seemed to 
infuse new life into the old fellow ; he jumped to his feet, 
and, with his head down, away he went around the out- 
side of the top of the sand hill. It was a perfect circus 
ring, and Harris, who had gotten him by the tail, never 
let go his hold; he did not dare; it was his only show. 
Harris was a tall, lank fellow, and his legs were flying 
higher than his head, as round and round he and the 
bull went. I could not help him in the least, but had to 
sit and hold his horse and judge the fight. I really 
thought that the old bull would never weaken. Harris 
said to me, after it was over, that the only thing he 

— 70 — 




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feared was that he would pull the bull's tail out by the 
roots, and if he did he was a goner. Finally the ring per- 
formance began to grow slower and slower, and Harris at 
last succeeded in cutting his hamstrings, when down went 
the bull. We brought in his tongue, hump, and hind- 
quarters, and, at a glorious feast that night, had a big 
laugh with the boys over Harris's comical adventure. 

I wish here to assert a few facts concerning game, 
and animal life in general, in early days, in the vicinity 
of Fort Dodge and Dodge City. There were wonderful 
herds of buffalo, antelope, deer, elk, and wild horses. 
There were big gray wolves and coyotes by the thousand, 
hundreds of the latter frequently being seen in bands, 
and often from ten to fifty grays in a bunch. There were 
also black and cinnamon bears, wild cats and mountain 
lions, though these latter were scarce and seldom seen 
so far from the mountains. Then there was the cunning 
little prairie dog — millions of them; and next in number 
to them was the little swift, similar to a fox in shape and 
color, but much prettier, and it could run like a streak, 
which gave it the name of swift. They were very suscept- 
ible to poison, and soon vanished from the face of the 
earth, as did the black croaking raven. I have seen the 
ground literally covered with dead ravens, for the space 
of an acre, around the carcasses of dead wolves that had 
been poisoned; having eaten of the flesh of the poisoned 
wolves, it affected the ravens the same as if they had 
eaten the poison direct. 

One terror of the plains was mad wolves. Several 
times were the different forts visited by them, and they 
not only did great damage to stock, but frequently to 
human beings. One ran into Fort Larned one night, bit 
the officer of the day. Lieutenant Thompson, and two 
soldiers, and I think two or three employees of the gov- 
ernment. Thompson went east and put himself under 
treatment, but he never was the same man afterward. It 

— 71 — 



is doubtful whether it Avas the treatment he underwent 
that affected him, or the continual dread. The others 
all died. 

Now I wish to give an idea of the great number of 
water-fowl and amphibious animals, such as the otter, 
beaver, muskrat, weasel, and mink, that were found on 
the southwestern plains. Up to about 1870 the beavers 
were plentiful, and there was also quite a number of 
otter ; but neither of these animals could stand civilization, 
and both were soon wiped out of existence, on account of 
the high price of their fur, and too many trappers. 

For some years after Dodge was established, our 
rivers, streams, ponds and lakes were covered with wild 
fowl — ducks, geese, swans, brants, pelicans, cranes and 
every species of water-fowl known to this continent. It 
was a poor day or a poor hunter who could not kill a 
hundred ducks and geese in a day, and sometimes several 
hundred were killed in a day, so one can judge by this 
how plentiful they were. Then turkeys and quails — 
there was no end to them. Their numbers were countless ; 
one could not estimate them. Indeed, I am almost 
ashamed to state how many I have seen, but what I am 
going to say about their number is no exaggeration. I 
have seen thousands of turkeys in a flock, coming in to 
roost on the North Pork and the main Canadian and its 
timbered branches. Several times, at a distance, we 
mistook them for large herds of buffalo. They literally 
covered the prairie for miles, with their immense flocks, 
and, more than once, Ave saddled our horses to make a 
run for them, thinking they were buffalo. If my recol- 
lection serves me right, about ninety miles doAvn the 
North Fork of the Canadian from Fort Supply, is Avhat 
is called, Sheridan's Roost, named for the large number 
of wild turkeys, killed in a single night, by Major- 
General Sheridan's escort, who made camp there one 
night. I had passed by the place before, and several 

— 72 — 



times after the big killing, and I should think it was 
rightly named, for, in my trips through that country, I 
thought I saw, with my own eyes, more wild turkeys than 
there were tame ones in the whole United States put 
together ; and there were just as many quails in the sand 
hills, bordering on these streams. 

I must not fail to mention, among our game birds, the 
pretty prairie plover, which, for about three months in 
the years, came in great numbers and dotted the prairie 
everywhere. It was a most beautiful game bird and 
considered by epicures to be very fine eating, superior to 
quail in flavor and juiciness. I have often gone out and 
killed from one hundred to two hundred, and back to 
Dodge, inside of four hours. It was beautiful sport. The 
bird would arise singly, when you approached it within 
forty of fifty yards, and sail gently away from you; 
and before you could reach your first dead bird, you 
would oftentimes have three or four more down. Army 
officers, and distinguished sportsmen and our governors 
and congressmen would come here to hunt them. But, 
like the wild turkey and other game, the prairie plover^ 
too, has almost ceased to appear. Civilization or settle- 
ment of the country has sounded its death note. 

I have spoken about the great number of wild ani- 
mals, but have failed to mention the skunks. They, too^ 
were very numerous, in the early days, at and around 
Dodge City, and, strange to say, their bite was almost 
always fatal. At least eight or ten persons died here 
from their bite, the first season Dodge started. We sup- 
posed they were mad skunks, or affected with hydro- 
phobia. Every one, of course, slept out of doors, and 
skunks would crawl right into bed with the men, and 
bite. Some were bitten on the nose, some on the lip, 
some on the hand or finger, and one man had his toe bitten 
almost off. One man who was bitten through the nose, 
had the skunk hold on to him, while he ran through the 

— 73 — 



camp in the night, beating with both hands at Mr. Skunk, 
and he had a time getting rid of the beast. The man 
whose toe was bitten was George Oaks, partner, at tho 
time, of our fellow townsman, Mr. George Richards. 
After he was bitten he determined to have revenge, so 
he camped his train (and he had quite a large mule 
train) and waited for, some say, four nights, before Mr. 
Skunk came back. Anyhow, he laid his train up for a 
day or two. But finally, one night, he blew Mr. Skunk's 
head off with a double-barreled shotgun, and, not satis- 
fied with emptying both barrels into his victim, reloaded 
and shot him again. He sure got his revenge. Some people 
were mean enough to say that Mr. Skunk would have 
died anyway, after biting Mr. Oaks, and that Mr. Skunk 
only came back to apologize, after he found out whom he 
had bitten, but I think different; this was a joke, for 
George Oaks was my friend and a big hearted, noble 
fellow, even if a little eccentric, and some people could 
not appreciate him. 

The creeks, when the fort (Dodge) was first started, 
were all heavily wooded with hackberry, ash, box-elder, 
Cottonwood, and elm. We cut fifteen hundred cords of 
wood almost in one body on a little creek six miles north 
of the fort, all hackberry. There were a good many 
thousand cords cut on the Sawlog, which stream is prop- 
erly the south fork of the Pawnee, but the soldiers would 
go out to the old Hays crossing, chop down a big tree, 
hitch a string of large mules to it, haul it up on the 
bank near the ford, and, after stripping off its top and 
limbs, leave its huge trunk there. In consequence 
thousands of immense logs accumulated, making the place 
look as if a sawmill had been established ; and these great 
trunks were sawlogs ready to be cut into lumber. The 
early buffalo hunters called the creek Sawlog, which 
name it bears to this day. 

Just above the crossing was a great resort and covert 
for elk. I have seen as many as fifty in a single band at 

— 74 — 



one time. Every spring we would go out there and cap- 
ture young ones. That region was also the heart of the 
buffalo range as well as that of the antelope. I have 
seen two thousand of the latter graceful animals in a 
single bunch driven right into Fort Dodge against the 
buildings by a storm. I have shot buffalo from the walls 
of my corral at the fort, and so many of them were there 
in sight it appearerd impossible to count them. It was 
a difficult problem to determine just how many buffalo 
I saw at one time. I have traveled through a herd of 
them days and days, never out of sight of them ; in fact, 
it might be correctly called one continuous gathering of 
the great shaggy monsters. I have been present at many 
a cattle round-up, and have seen ten thousand head in 
one herd and under complete control of their drivers ; but 
I have seen herds of buffalo so immense in number that 
the vast aggregation of domestic cattle I ha\e men- 
tioned seemed as none at all compared with them. 

In writing this brief description of animal life along 
the old trails, I have purposely left till the last the 
mention of the buffalo for it is the animal to which it is 
hardest to do justice. The southwestern plains, in early 
days, was the greatest country on earth, and the buffalo 
ivas the noblest as well as the most plentiful of its game 
animals. I have indeed traveled through buffaloes along 
the Arkansas river for two hundred miles, almost one 
continuous herd, as close together as it is customary to 
herd cattle. You might go north or south as far as you 
pleased and there would seem no diminution of their num- 
bers. When they were suddenly frightened and stam- 
peded they made a roar like thunder and the ground 
seemed to tremble. When, after nightfall, they came to 
the river, particularly when it was in flood, their immense 
numbers, in their headlong plunge, would make you 
think, by the thunderous noise, that they had dashed all 
the water from the river. They often went without water 

— 75 — 



one and two days in summer, and much longer in winter. 
No one had any idea of their number. 

General Sheridan and Major Inman were occupying 
my office at Fort Dodge one night, having just made the 
trip from Fort Supply, and called me in to consult as to 
how many buffaloes there were between Dodge and 
Supply. Taking a strip fifty miles east and fifty miles 
west, they had first made it ten billion. General Sheridan 
said, ''That won't do." They figured it again, and made 
it one billion. Finally they reached the conclusion that 
there must be one hundred million; but said they were 
afraid to give out these figures; nevertheless they 
believed them. This vast herd moved slowly toward the 
north when spring opened, and moved steadily back 
again from the far north when the days began to grow 
short and winter was setting in. 

Horacre Greeley estimated the number of buffaloes 
at five million. I agree with him, only I think there were 
nearly five times that number. Mr. Greeley passed 
through them twice ; I lived in the heart of the buffalo 
range for nearly fifteen years; now who do you think 
would be the best judge of their number? I am told 
that some recent writer, who has studied the buffalo 
closely, has placed their number at ninety millions, and 
I think that he is nearer right than I. Brick Bond, a 
resident of Dodge, and old, experienced hunter, a great 
shot, a man of considerable intelligence and judgment^ 
and a most reliable man as to truthfulness and honesty 
says that he killed fifteen hundred buffaloes in seven 
days, and his highest killing was two hundred and fifty in 
one day, and he had to be on the lookout for hostile 
Indians all the time. He had fifteen skinners, and he 
was only one of many hunters. 

Charles Rath and I shipped over two hundred thou- 
sand buffalo hides the first winter the Atchison, Topeka 
& Santa Fe railroad reached Dodge City, and I think 

— 76 — 



there were at least as many more shipped from there, 
besides two hundred cars of hind quarters and two cars 
of buffalo tongues. Often have I shot them from the 
walls of my corral, for my hogs to feed upon. Several 
times have I seen wagon trains stop to let the immense 
herds pass; and time and time again, along in August or 
September, when putting up hay in the Arkansas bottom, 
would we have to put out men, both night and day, to 
keep them out of our herd of work cattle. We usually 
hunted them on horseback; that is, we would single out 
one animal in a herd, and ride along by the side of it, and 
shoot it with a six-shooter. Sometimes we would kill 
several buffalo on a single run, but very few white men 
killed them wantonly. 

There was great antipathy between the hunters and 
the Indians ; they cordially hated each other. This hatred 
between them was greatly on account of their different 
manner of killing the buffalo. The Indian hunted the 
buffalG altogether on horseback, with bow and arrow, or 
else with a long spear or lance, which they planted in the 
side of the animal by riding up alongside of him. By 
either means, they had to ride up close to the buffalo, 
scattering the herd and running them out of the country 
or off the range entirely. The Indians claimed they only 
killed for meat or robes, and, as soon as they had suf- 
ficient, they stopped and went home, the herds of buffalo 
soon getting together again and recovering from their 
panic. Whereas, the hunter never knew when to quit or 
when he had enough, and was continually harassing the 
buffaloes from every side, never giving them a chance 
to recover, but keeping up a continual pop-pop from 
their big guns. The Indians further claimed that the 
hunters' mode of killing was not only unfair, but it was 
cowardly, and downright murder, pure and simple, for 
they did not give the buffaloes the ghost of a show for 
their lives. They would get a stand on a herd by shooting 
the leader, at the great distance of a mile, clear out of 

— 77 — 



scent and sound of the gun, and almost out of sight, and, 
in a short time, would annihilate the entire bunch, whilst 
the bewildered animals would wander around, taking 
their deaths, ignorant of what was the source of danger 
or how to get away. Besides, many of them, wounded, 
would wander off, out of sight and reach, and were not 
found until they were unfit for market; and the Indians^ 
claimed that the noise of the hunters' guns and their 
mode of killing would soon drive the buffalo out of the 
j»,ountry or annihilate them. Time has proved that the 
Indians were correct. 

A band of hunters cared no more for Indians, than 
Indians did for foot soldiers, and, unless they greatly 
outnumbered the hunters, and then only under the most 
favorable circumstances, the Indians would not attack 
the hunters. They were afraid of the hunter's big guns, 
his cool bravery, and, last but not least, of his unerring, 
deadly aim. Then, too, the hunter had but little plunder 
that was dear to the Indian, after the fight was won — 
only a team of work horses, and the redskin cared much 
more for riding ponies than for work animals. 

I want to say something of the buffalo and its habits 
The buffalo-wallow is caused by the buffalo pawing and 
licking the salty alkali earth, and when the sod is once 
broken the dirt is wafted away by the action of the wind ; 
then, year after year, by more pawing and licking and 
rolling or wallowing by the animals, more >ind wafts the 
loose dirt away, and soon there is a large hole ir the 
prairie. Now there is a much more curious spectacle to 
be seen every year when the grass starts up; is even 
plainly to be seen yet when springtime arrives. These are 
rings on the prairie; and there are thousands of them — 
yes, millions. From the first of April and until the middle 
of May was our wet season on the plains ; this was alway& 
the case; you could depend upon it with almost the 
certainty of the sun and moon rising at the proper time. 
This was the calving season of the buffalo; the buffalo, 

— 78 — 



not like domestic cattle, only rutted one month, neither 
more nor less, then it was all over. I want to interpolate 
a statement here, that no man living I ever heard of or 
saw witnessed the act of copulation by the buffalo. It 
was all done after night. Then was the only time that 
the buffalo made any noise or fuss; but at this season 
they would keep up a low roaring sound all night, and, 
as a consequence, the cows all calved in a month. At 
that time there were a great many gray wolves in the 
country as well as the little coyote. While the cows were 
in labor, the bulls kept guard to drive off the wolves, and, 
in their beat, made the rings referred to. I have had 
people argue to me that they were caused by lightning 
striking the earth; but it is certainly strange that light- 
ning should only strike at these breeding places and 
nowhere else. Others would argue that the Indians had 
their war dances there, which is just about as absurd a 
statement as the other. Others even say that two bulls 
get their heads together in battle and push each other 
round and round in a ring until a circle is formed. Buf- 
faloes live to a great age. I have heard it from best 
authority that some of them live to be seventy-five or 
eighty years old, and it is quite common for them to 
live thirty or forty years; in fact, I think I have seen 
many a bull's head that I thought to be over thirty years 
old. After a storm, when we would go in search of our 
lost cattle, we could tell the buffalo tracks from our 
cattle tracks because the buffalo tracks would be going 
against the storm every time, while our domestic cattle 
would invariably go with it. You see the buffalo is much 
more thinly clad behind than in front; nearly all of his 
coat is on his head, shoulders and hump, and, when our 
cattle would turn tail, the buffalo would naturally face 
the storm. 

In another paragraph, mention has been made of the 
terrific noise and quaking of ground, resulting from a 
stampeding herd of buffaloes. I will now remind the 

— 79 — 



reader of my exciting adventure with buffaloes, referred 
to in another chapter, and which I promised to relate. It 
will be remembered that, after a forced march in flight 
from Indians, I was allowing my horse and cattle to rest 
and graze a few hours, before proceeding on our way to 
the ranch at Aubrey. While waiting for the animals, and 
for greater safety to myself away from them, I ascended 
a dry sand creek a couple of miles, where the banks rose 
very steeply to the height of eighteen or twenty feet, ll 
and were sharply cut up by the narrow trails made by the 
buffalo. 

The whole face of the earth was covered with buffalo ; 
they were grazing slowly toward the river. As it was a 
w^arm day, and getting on in the afternoon, all at once 
they became frightened at something and stampeded pell ' 
mell toward the very spot where I was. I quickly ran 
into one of the precipitous little paths and up on the 
prairie to see what had scared them. They were fairly 
making the ground tremble, as in their mighty multitude 
they came on running at full speed ; the sound of their 
hoofs resembled thunder, only a continuous peal. It 
appeared to me that they must sweep everything in their 
path, and for my own preservation I ran under the banks; 
but on they came like a tornado, with one old bull in 
the lead. He held up a second to descend the deep, nar- 
row trail, and when he got half way down the bank I let 
him have it — I was only a few steps from him — and over 
he tumbled. I don't know why I killed him — out of pure 
wantonness, I expect; or perhaps I thought it would 
frighten the others back ; not so, however ; they only 
quickened their pace over the dead bull, and others fell 
over them. The top of the bank was actually swarming 
with them ; they leaped, pitched and rolled down. I 
crouched as close to the bank as possible, but numbers of 
them just grazed my head, knocking the sand and gravel in 
great streams down my neck ; indeed, I was half buried 

— 80 — 



before the last one had passed. The old bull was the last 
buffalo I ever shot wantonly, excepting once from an 
ambulance, to please a distinguished Englishman who had 
never seen one killed. Then I did it only after his hard 
persuasion. 

Jack Bridges, a scout of some fame in eastern Kansas 
during the war, said to me one day: **I see you always 
hunt buffaloes on horseback. If you will take a needle- 
gun (that was an improved Springfield) and go with me, 
you will never hunt on horseback again." And I never 
did. We usually hunted the calves only in the fall and 
winter, as all we cared for was the meat. It was won- 
derful to see how strong the mother's instinct was to 
protect her young. The calf would invariably run on the 
opposite side of its mother. One day I had taken a knee 
rest, and waited and waited for the calf to run ahead of 
its mother as they ascended a hill together. At last I 
saw a dark spot just ahead of the cows breast and fired, 
killing both caw and calf, breaking the cows neck as 
she had it distended ascending the hill, and shooting the 
calf dead, as I supposed. Just then a soldier came along 
and asked permission to have their tongues. We told 
him yes. On coming back with a wagon, picking up the 
dead calves, we found this one gone. Bridges said to me : 
"See, the d — soldier has stolen the calf." We saw the 
soldier soon after coming to us. He said: ''After I cut 
the tongue out of the calf, he got up and ran over the 
hill a quarter of a mile." Sure enough, there he lay dead, 
with his tongue cut out. Two other soldiers verified this 
ones story. ^ 

Notwithstanding this abundance of game and the 
general pursuit of it, for a white man to go south of the 
Arkansa*s river to hunt was considered suicidal until after 
1870. The south side of the Arkansas was considered 
sacred to the Indians, or at least this was their view of it, 
and no one ventured across the Arkansas except the old 

— 81 — 



traders, unless under a good escort of soldiers. The more 
daring of the hunters would take desperate chances to 
hunt pelts and furs in winter, south of the river, but 
they were very few, and some of them never returned, 
and they would go singly, never more than two together. 
It was considered an unknown quantity, and so it was. 
Rich in furs and pelts, game everywhere, no wonder it 
was watched by the Indians with such jealous care. With 
longing eyes the daring hunters would gaze across; it 
was forbidden fruit, and their curiosity and hankering 
would be increased all the more for this reason. Curly 
Walker and Jack Pratt were two who ventured down into 
that country every winter, sometimes in partnership, but 
most generally alone, with a strong light wagon, two 
good draft horses, and a good and tried saddler. They 
always returned loaded to the brim with the richest furs, 
beaver, otter, big grey wolves, and sometimes a silver 
fox. The little coyote was too insignificant, and only 
caught to make up the load. These men made their head- 
quarters at Dodge. They traded with the writer, and I 
seldom paid them less than six dollars apiece for their 
grey wolf skins, and their load never netted them less 
than a thousand dollars and sometimes double that 
amount. 

A game animal of the utmost practical value was the 
wild horse, which was hunted in a manner very different 
from that in which other game was hunted, and which 
was attended by peculiar difficulties and dangers. In 
the summer of 1878, Mr. J. T. Elliott, of Dodge City, in 
company with I. M. Henderson and F. C. Foxworthy, 
started in pursuit of wild horses. An account of their 
experience, as related at the time, runs as follows : 

**They struck a band of about two hundred head of 
the finest wild horses they ever saw. After following 
them on horseback and afoot for nine days and nights, 
they finally succeeded in corralling forty-eight head. 

— 82 — 



They were thirty-six hours without water, and came near 
perishing for want of it. Finally the herd struck the 
Arkansas river, just at the time when they were ready 
to give up further pursuit, as they felt they could go no 
farther and must surely perish for want of water. New 
courage overtook them, however, and they stuck to their 
little band until the river was reached. They are holding 
these horses at Lakin. Mr. Elliott was in Dodge a few 
days ago, purchasing supplies for another trip after wild 
horses." 

Wild horses were numerous on the plains. These 
horses were the progeny of abandoned horses by plains- 
men, and they were harmful to range stock. The capture 
of the stallions was necessary, so as to corral and capture 
the mare herds. The increase of the wild bands was made, 
yearly, by the escape of horses from the stock herds. The 
wild stallions could not be secured by a cowboy on horse- 
back. A winter's campaign was necessary to accomplish 
the capture of the wild horses. The stallions were shot, 
by getting in close range by the cowboy, from time to 
time, and the mares were secured alive. 

A horse belonging to a cattleman by the name of E. 
Clemence, was being saddled with a cowman's saddle, 
made by R. E. Rice, when it broke away from its owner, 
and was not seen until two years afterwards, when it was 
discovered with a drove of wild horses, the saddle still 
being in proper position on the back of the horse. The 
owner never recovered the animal. 

Among the many things that young Dodge City took 
great pride in and excelled in, was one pertaining to her 
great game resources and the chase, and that was her 
dogs. They were known far and wide; every one was 
singing the praises of Dodge City's dogs, and justly, too, 
for they were the best bred of their kind in the world. 
I mean the pure bred greyhound, and there were several 
large packs of these hounds. I expect the greatest T)aak 

^83—. 



and the largest was one owned by Mayor James H. Kelly, 
and, for that reason the ''gang" christened him "Dog" 
Kellly. 

The first winter of Dodge's existence there came a 
deep, snow, the latter part of November, which drove 
the antelope off the hills into the river bottom, where 
they bunched up by the thousands. Kelly started out, 
the morning after the storm, with a lot of sports and a 
big pack of greyhounds, and just a half mile west of 
Dodge they struck a big band of antelope, and the dogs 
soon caught all they could carry home. The snow was 
deep and the morning turned out to be very warm. They 
were all true sports and did not wish to kill for useless 
slaughter, and the dogs were warm and tired, so they 
called them off and started back to town. When they 
got in, Kelly missed a favorite hound by the name of Jim, 
only a pup six months old, but a monster. He was extra- 
ordinarily large for his age, big boned and well muscled, 
and gave promise of making a fine animal when he got 
age. So back went Kelly after Jim-dog. A mile or two 
from where they quit the hunt, he found a dead antelope ; 
a few miles farther along the Santa Fe trail, he found 
another; and on he went, finding dead antelope until he 
got to the foot of Nine -mile Ridge, twenty miles west of 
Dodge City. There he found Jim-dog lying by the side of 
his last kill. I know Kelly told me there were at least a 
dozen antelope killed by this same dog in the twenty 
mile run. You see, the old Santa Fe trail ran along the 
river, and the wind had swept the snow, to a great 
measure, out of the trail, and the herd of antelope they 
started that morning kept the trail because it was easier 
traveling for them. The dog kept after them, and when 
he would kill one, would leave it and go after the others, 
until he was completely used up and worn out. Kelly 
brought him home in front of his saddle, and no mone^ 
could buy Jim after this exploit. 

— 84 — 



Many times afterwards, when the dog got age, and 
they would be on a hunt twenty or thirty miles away, 
the other dogs would all quit and the hunters return 
home, when Jim-dog would be missing, sometimes it 
would be two or three days before his return, and he 
would eventually stagger in all tired out, as lank as a 
shad, and it would be days before he would notice any- 
thing but water and food, he would be so completely done 
up and worn out. We would kid Kelly by saying, ''Jim 
has quit." "Not until the antelope does," would be his 
reply. 

In this connection, a story entitled, "A Race to 
Death," clipped from the "Dodge City Times," of Sep- 
tember 15, 1877, is of decided interest. It seems there 
was great rivalry between Lieutenant Gardener, of Fort 
Dodge, and Mr. James Kelly, as to who had the best pack 
of hounds. The story continues: 

"The dogs of both of these gentlemen are known 
to be the best in the land and were eager for the contest, 
so they made up a race, which, from its tragic termination, 
will not soon be forgotten. On the morning of the 14th, 
together with a large party of friends and sports, they 
crossed the Arkansas four miles from Dodge, in the 
lower hills that skirt the river, and started two fine 
antelope. Then followed a race after the flying dogs and 
antelope, that for excitement and reckless enjoyment 
makes the finest sport in the world. The antelope, clear- 
ing away over the prairie with flying feet, almost seemed 
for awhile to outdo the sleek graceful hounds, who, with 
ears laid low and tails straight out and active muscles, 
dashed after the beautiful fugitives. It was a beautiful 
sight, the antelope, the hounds, and the huntsmen. A 
mile and a half of breakneck speed told the story, and 
just as that wonder of modern speed and ugliness, Yclept, 
Old Calamity (this was the name of a famous hunter), 
carried this deponent over the brow of a hill, the hounds 

— 85 — 



brought the tired creatures to the ground. It was a vic- 
tory dearly won, and the dead antelope were soon to be 
followed by their captors, in a chase through animal 
paradise. 

**The last of the huntsmen had hardly reached the 
finish when it became apparent that the faithful dogs 
had given their lives for the game. Unable to stand, they 
were taken upon the saddles before the hunters and hur- 
riedly carried toward the river, three miles away. Poor 
Fly, a most beautiful animal, never reached the water. 
The others were taken to the river, bled, and rubbed, but 
to no purpose. Rowdy soon followed Fly, and, to close 
the scene, Kate, an elegant imported hound of Lieutenant 
Gardener — both animals, for grace, beauty and speed, 
probably have no peers in western Kansas — paid the debt 
of nature. The best dogs die first, and the latter two 
were very king and queen. It is not everybody that 
enjoys this kind of sport, but, once a participant, there 
are but few who will not admire the graceful animals, and, 
after so noble an effort, be sorry to see them die." The 
loss of dogs was great in hot weather hunts. Kelly never 
sold a dog but would occasionally give one away to a 
dear friend, and, when parties would come to Dodge and 
bring their dogs for a grand hunt, Kelly would often buy 
one, no matter what the price. He paid one hundred 
dollars for a dog, and often fifty dollars, and I have 
known him to pay two hundred dollars when he saw an 
extra good one. A few days after the race, Lieutenant 
Gardener lost two more of his dogs. One was his favorite 
hound, Omar, who died of congestion of the lungs, 
brought about by the last day's sport. Omar had an 
unblemished pedigree. I could mention a great many 
more exciting races if I had the space. 



— 86 



CHAPTER V. 
Indian Life of the Plains. 

Upon the loss of our ranch (at iCimarron), Mr. 
Anthony and I thought we would take our chances again, 
and burn lime on the Buckner, or middle branch of the 
Pawnee, about thirty miles north of Fort Dodge. We 
were well aware that the government could not furnish 
us with a guard. But the Indians were now supposed to 
be peaceable and not on the warpath. They had only 
captured a few trains, burnt a number of ranches, and 
murdered small parties of defenseless emigrants on the 
trail; still they were not considered at war. All the 
whites were forbidden to kill or molest an Indian in any 
manner, although it was perfectly legitimate for them 
to murder us. 

Under such conditions we started to work to fill our 
public lime contracts ; we were receiving big prices for it, 
however, comparable to the supposed risk, getting three or 
four dollars a bushel. Our positive instructions from the 
commandant at Fort Dodge were: "Under no circum- 
stances, no matter how aggravated, you must not kill an 
Indian first ; let them kill you ; then it will be time enough 
to retaliate." 

Late one night, the quartermaster. Lieutenant Bas- 
sett, and his chief clerk rode into our camp, and told us 
that the Indians were killing everybody over in the 
Smoky Hill country. They had traveled all night, and 
laid by during the day, as they were unable to get any 
escort, all the troops being out in the field after savages. 
They left for Fort Dodge early the next morning, warning 
us to take the utmost precaution against surprise and 
attack. After the departure of Lieutenant Bassett and 
his clerk, Jim Wrighting, an old wagon boss, and I started 

— 87 — 



for a load of wood. We had to go about four miles down 
the creek for it, but still in plain view of our camp. Sud- 
denly we saw a dozen bucks, each with a led horse, rise 
over the top of the hill. The creek was between us, and 
we knew it was exceedingly boggy ; it could only be 
crossed at certain places; if these places were missed, it 
would mire a saddle-blanket. I said to Jim: ''What 
shall we do? There are some of the very lads who have 
been murdering the women and children over on the other 
river; shall we try to make it back to camp, or go right 
ahead, and pretend that we don't see them, or don't care 
for them if we do see them?" He replied: "We will 
take our chances, and go ahead. I hate to run, and have 
the boys laugh at us." ''Here's with you," I answered. 

We had only revolvers with us, and away they came 
lickety brindle. I thought: "Laddie bucks, you are 
tenderfeet, or young ones, or you would not come tearing 
down the hill that way. You don't know the creek like 
your forefathers, and if you keep at that gait, and don't 
tumble into a mire-pit up to your necks, never to get out 
again, then you can call me a horse thief. Then Jim 
Wrighting and I will go down and chop off your heads 
just even up with where the mire strikes them, as did 
Jack the Giant Killer." They left their led horses back 
on the hill with two guards, so tliey were free to ride at 
will. But when they arrived at the creek, they stopped 
short with a little jerk-up, and I think one or two of 
them — those in the lead — got a taste, and the others had 
to pull them out. Now they began to slowly and carefully 
hunt a crossing, which was difficult to find. Then they 
tried other tactics; they rode along and commenced 
yelling and gesticulating, motioning for us to stop, but 
our eyesight was not very good in that direction, and then 
we lost them altogether. I said: "Jim, these fellows 
have given us up, or else have tumbled into one of these 
mire holes, and we will have a time chopping their heads 
off when we go back." Jim answered: "No, them 'ere 

— 88 — 



fellows was born on the prairie, and is as true to instinct 
as a buzzard is to scent carrion. They are sure to find a 
crossing, and be down on us in a holy minute, like a 
hawk on a chicken, and we are bound to have fun." You 
see I was beginning to get very ticklish myself — scared 
nearly to death — but did not want to let on for fear Jim 
would get scared too. I knew I must try to keep my 
courage up by keeping up his, and I said to him: ''Jim, 
maybe they are only youngsters, and don't know how to 
shoot; they appear to be by the way they charged the 
creek." Jim replied: "Youngsters! nothing; them is the 
worst kind." Said I: ''Jim, perhaps they only want to 
pay us a friendly visit, and want us to go to camp with 
them and help eat their grub; what do you think?" Jim 
answered : ' ' More than likely they will take us into camp, 
but I will be at the taking." 

This was just what I wanted. Jim's metal had "riz," 
and I knew he was ready to fight a stack of bobtailed 
wildcats. As the savages reappeared, I turned to Jim and 
said: "Here they come." "I knowed it," he replied. 
"Don't waste any ammunition; we have got twelve loads 
apiece, and there are only eight of them." Four of their 
number had remained in the rear to guard the led horses, 
and the eight had only delayed to find a crossing; but 
they trimmed themselves up besides, to be ready for any 
emergency. Pour of them now dashed ahead, two to the 
right of us and two to the left, making a detour wide 
enough to keep out of range of our pistols, which they 
could plainly see in our hands. Then the first four came 
in, while the others closed up behind. We kept right on, 
however, until they finally surrounded us, and we were 
obliged to stop. They held their six-shooters in front of 
them, but we had a decided advantage of them, for we 
were in a thick, heavy wagon box. They wanted to know 
where the main big camp of the Indians was. We told 
them that they had been camped at the Cimarron crossing, 
but the soldiers had got after them and they had gone 

-^89 — 



south. Then we pointed out our tents — we had five of 
them and they made quite a respectable figure at a dis- 
tance — and told them it was the soldiers' camp. They 
evidently did not believe us, for they went over to the 
camp, bound the cook securely, whom they found asleep 
(why they did not kill him is a mystery), cut open every 
valise and took several revolvers from our tenderfeet, 
who had left them in their grips instead of strapping 
them on their persons. They carried off all the ammuni- 
tion they could find, all the horses, mules, ropes, and 
everything else that seized their fancy. Mr. Anthony and 
the remainder of our men were quarrying rock up in the 
bluffs, and had their rifles with them. 

These young bucks were certainly of those who had 
been concerned in the murder on the other river, for we 
noticed dry blood on their hands and clothing, and, as 
there was not an antelope or buffalo in the country then, 
it could not have been the blood of game in which they 
were ensanguined. They had evidently strayed away 
from the main band and were very anxious to find them, 
or get back south of the Arkansas river, where they were 
better acquainted with the country. They were a little 
out of their regular beat where they now found them- 
selves,, and that fact undoubtedly deterred them from 
committing further acts of deviltry. 

I have seen with my glass from the lookout on top of 
my building at the ranch (Cimarron) two hundred or 
three hundred wagons and two thousand head of mules 
and oxen, all waiting for the river to go down, so that 
they could cross ; and I have watched a band of Indians 
charge upon them like an avalanche, kill the poor, panic- 
stricken Mexican drivers as easily and unmercifully as a 
bunch of hungry wolves would destroy a flock of sheep. 
Then the savages would jump off their horses long enough 
to tear the reeking scalps from their victims' heads and 
dash away after fresh prey. They, of course, drove off 

— 90 — 



many of the horses and cattle. Sometimes the owners 
would succeed in getting the majority of their stock into 
the corrals, and for days and weeks afterward the miser- 
able mutilated oxen would struggle back to the river for 
water, some with their tails cut off close, some with ears 
gone, some with great strips of hide stripped from their 
bodies, others with arrows sticking out of them, the cruel 
shafts sunk deep into their paunches half way up to the 
feathers. The Indians did not care anything for the cattle 
as long as there was plenty of buffalo ; they mutilated 
the poor creatures to show their damnable meanness. The 
horses, of course, they valued. 

Once, while a train of wagons was waiting to cross, 
three or four of them having already made the passage, 
leaving the Mexican drivers on this side with the wagons 
loaded with loose wool, a lot of Indians swooped down 
upon them. When the men saw the savages, the poor 
defenseless wretches made for their wagons and concealed 
themselves under the wool, but the Indians followed them 
in and killed the last one with an old camp ax belonging 
to the train, afterwards mutilating their bodies in their 
usual barbarous manner. 

Satank was chief of the Kiowas when I first knew 
him, but was deposed because he ran away from camp 
and left the women and children. Satanta took his place. 
The Indians were camped in a large bottom called 
Cheyenne bottom, about eight miles north of old Fort 
Zarah, and the same distance from where the town of 
Great Bend now is. All of the bucks were out on a hunt, 
or on the warpath excepting Satank. The soldiers from 
Fort Larned suddenly surprised them in their camp, when 
Satank jumped on his pony and skipped. He certainly 
would have been killed or captured had he remained; so 
Satank, deeming discretion the better part of valor, lit 
out. His tribe, however, claims that it was his duty to 
have died at his post in defense of the women and children, 

— 91 — 



as they had left him back for that purpose, to guard the 
camp. 

Satanta was considered the worst Indian on the 
plains, and for a long time the most dreaded. He was 
war-chief of the Kiowas. There were many stories afloat 
about his doings at Fort Dodge, some of which are true, 
others not. In 1866 a committee was sent from Washing- 
ton to inquire into the causes of the continued warfare on 
the border, and what the grievances of the Indians were. 
Of course Satanta was sent for and asked to talk his 
mind freely. He was very pathetic. He had ''no desire 
to kill the white people, but they ruthlessly killed off the 
buffalo, and let their carcasses rot on the prairie, while 
the Indian only killed from necessity. The whites had put 
out fires on the prairie and destroyed the grass, which 
caused their ponies to die of starvation, as w^ell as the 
buffalo. They cut down and destroyed the timber and 
made large fires of it, while the Indian was satisfied to 
cook his 'chuck' with a few dry limbs. Only the other 
day," continued he, "I picked up a little switch in the 
road and it made my heart bleed to think that small limb 
so ruthlessly torn up and thoughtlessly destroyed by the 
white man would have in the course of time become a 
grand tree, for the use and benefit of my children and my 
grandchildren." After the powwow, and when he had 
a few drinks of red liquor in him, he showed his real 
nature, and said to the interpreter: "Now, didn't I give 
it to those white men in good style? The switch I saw 
in the road made my heart glad instead of sad, for I knew 
there was a tenderfoot ahead, because an old plainsman 
never would have anything but a quirt or a good pair of 
spurs. I said, 'Come on, boys; we have got him;' and 
we came in sight of him, pressing him closely on the dead 
run ; he threw his gun away and held tight onto his hat, 
for fear he might lose it." 

Another time, when Satanta had remained at the fort^ 
for a long time and had worn out his welcome, so that no 

— 92 — 



one would give him anything to drink, he went up to the 
quarters of his friend, Bill Bennett, the stage agent, and 
begged him for liquor. Bill was mixing a bottle of medi- 
cine to drench a sick mule, and the moment he set the 
bottle down to do something else Satanta picked it up and 
drank most of its contents before stopping. Of course it 
made the savage dreadfully sick, as well as angry. He 
then went up to a certain officer's quarters and again 
begged there for liquor, to cure him of the effects of the 
previous dose, but the officer refused. Still Satanta per- 
sisted; he would not leave; and after awhile the officer 
went to his closet and took a swallow of balsam copaiba, 
placing the bottle back. Satanta watched his opportunity 
and, as soon as the officer left the room, seized the bottle 
and drank its contents. That, of course, was a worse dose 
than the horse medicine, and the next day the wily 
Satanta called his people together, crossed the Arkansas, 
and went south. Before leaving, however, he burnt all 
of Mr. Coryell's hay, which was stacked opposite the 
fort. He then continued on to Crooked creek, where he 
killed three wood-choppers, all of which he said he did in 
revenge for trying to poison him twice at Fort Dodge. 

In the fall the Indians would come in, make a treaty, 
and draw rations, and break the treaty as soon as the 
grass was green in the spring. I have seen the Arkansas 
bottom for miles above and miles below Port Dodge cov- 
ered with Indians' tepees and ponies — thousands of the 
former and many thousands of the latter — the Indians all 
drawing rations, and the whole country full of game, 
black with buffalo and large bands of antelope, with deer 
on the islands and in the brush, and not a few elk in the 
breaks and rough country. 

I think it was in 1867 our government got a very 
liberal streak, and sent the Indians thousands of sacks 
of flour, pantaloons in abundance, and a big lot of stiff- 
rim hats, bound around the edge with tin or German 

— 93 — 



silver, to hold the rim in shape. They also sent them a 
few light-running ambulances. The savages, to show 
their appreciation of these magnanimous gifts from the 
** Great Father," threw the flour on the prairie in order 
to get the sacks for breech-clouts. They cut out the 
seats of the pantaloons, as they said an Indian's posterior 
was too warm anyhow; they cut the crown off the hats 
and used them as playthings, shying them in the air like 
a white boy does a flat stone, to see them sail away. The 
ambulances they were very proud of. The government 
neglected to send any harness with them, so the Indians 
manufactured their own. They did not understand any- 
thing about lines, and, instead, they drove with a quirt 
or short whip ; when the near horse would go too much 
gee, they whipped up the off horse, and when he would go 
too much haw, they pounded away at the near horse 
again, and vice versa, all the time. This unique manner 
of driving kept the poor animals in a dead run most of 
the time. I remember taking a ride with Little Raven, 
chief of the Arapahoes. At first we started off gently; 
but the ponies did not go straight, so he kept tapping 
them, now the off horse, then the near, until finally he 
got them on a rapid gallop, and I thought, at one time, 
that my head would surely pop up through the roof of the 
ambulance. The country was very level, fortunately, or 
J don't know what would have been the outcome. 

In the fall of 1869 Mr. Anthony and I were filling a 
hay contract at Camp Supply. Our camp was about ten 
miles up the Beaver. One afternoon I started from Camp 
Supply for my own camp, after having partaken of an 
excellent dinner at the officers' mess. It was issuing day 
to the Indians ; I think the first time that live beef was 
ever distributed to them. Several hundred big, wild 
Texas steers were turned over to them, but the Indians 
didn't care for the meat; they could always get plenty of 
buffalo, which they infinitely preferred, but they took 

— 94 — 



^reat delight in the sport of killing them after their 
manner of hunting buffalo. They ran the frightened 
creatures on horseback, lanced them with their spearg, 
and shot them full of arrows, until the last one was dead. 
The whole trail was strewn with dead steers, though 
scarcely one of them was touched for food. Occasionally 
[ would notice one whose skin was covered with pretty 
white spots, and this fact having struck the savage fancy, 
they had peeled off the most beautiful of them to make 
quivers for their arrows. 

As I was approaching my camp, yet some two miles 
distant, a large, fat Indian rode out of the brush on a 
peculiar piebald pony, and by signs indicated to me that 
he wanted to swap. I asked if he meant that pony; he 
answered, ''Not my pony.'' ''What is it, then?" said I. 
He tried hard to make me understand, but I could not 
talk. He finally motioned for me to ride into the brush, 
but I said: "Here, old fellow, none of your tricks; I 
don't want any squaws." He said: "No squaw," so I 
rode in, and saw a fine dog with his hindquarters gone. 

r said to him: "You go to ; what do you take me 

for?" He replied: "Your'e a fool; you don't know 
what is good." I answered him : "Eat it yourself, if you 
think it is so nice." He then said he had just traded the 
saddle to some white folks, and wanted to trade me the 
other part. The skin was still hanging on, attached to 
the body of the dog where he had stripped it from the 
saddle, but I looked at him in disgust and rode off. 

When I arrived at my camp Mr. Anthony and the 
boys were eating supper. I threw my bridle-reins over 
the front standard of a wagon and walked up to the 
fire where they were eating. They said to me, "Come and 
get some supper." I told them no; I had partaken of a 
hearty dinner at the officers' mess just before I left 
Supply. Anthony said: "You better have some; I 
bought the saddle of an antelope from an Indian this 

— 95 — 



afternoon; its the sweetest and juiciest meat I ever 
tasted." So did all the men urge me to try it. Indeed, 
they were lavish in the praise of their antelope meat. I 
said: ''Are you sure that is antelope meat? Antelope 
are very scarce; I haven't seen one for a long time." 
They were certain it was antelope ; it tasted like antelope ; 
they knew it was antelope, and remarked it was a good 
one. After they had finished supper, I said: "Fellows, 
do you know what you have all been eating so heartily?" 
They all answered antelope, of course; nothing else. I 
told them it was dog! They Avould not believe me, and I 
jumped on my horse, rode back, threw my lariat over the 
dog's head and pulled it into camp. "Now," said I, "a 
big, fat Indian, on a piebald pony, tried to trade me the 
balance of this carcass." Anthony said: "That's him, 
sure," and then he tried to vomit. The others poked their 
fingers down their throats to coax up the obnoxious meat, 
but I interrupted them with: "It's no use, boys; he is 
down deep in your stomachs; let him stay there." 

As an interesting picture of another phase of Indian 
life on the plains, I quote the following early day descrip- 
tion of an Indian duel and their death songs : 

"Two Indians came forth from different lodges, each 
Avith a gun in his hand. They walked some little distance 
from the rest of the Indians and took post distant from 
each other about fifty yards. At a given signal they 
turned, raised their rifles to their faces, and fired. Both 
fell wounded, one fatally. They were immediately sur- 
rounded by friends who made no effort to bind their 
wounds but simply stood around, talking among them- 
selves and gesticulating, while the wounded Indians, as 
soon as they fell, began the death song. There was little 
music in it. It was a sort of deep-down unnatural tone of 
voice, kept up for half a minute or so at a time, when it 
would cease and the sufferers would, in the interim, make 
a confession of all the evil deeds that they had done. 

— 96 — 



They would tell of the massacres in which they had been 
engaged, how many scalps they had lifted from the heads 
of white people, the number of ponies they had stolen, 
together with all sorts of important and unimportant evil 
doings in their lifetime. This accomplished, they were 
ready to give up the ghost." 

This is what the great chief, Spotted Tail, told the 
President, when he visited Washington, many years ago, 
with a lot of other chiefs. It is so much like the wants 
of Indians who visited Fort Dodge in early days, that I 
can't help relating it here. 

''We want our provisions sent to the agencies that 
I have mentioned. You told us your nation increases ; we 
want to increase, too, in prosperity and in numbers. You 
said you wished us to be like white men, and so we are 
here today, dressed in white men's clothes. I want the 
kind of cattle the white men have, short horns. I want 
everything in writing, before I go home, so there be no 
mistake. We want teachers of English ; we want Catholic 
priests to teach us. We should like saw mills and grist 
mills and agricultural instruments and seeds. We want 
five or six stores; then we could buy cheaper from one 
than at another. I am very well dressed and so are the 
others. They want forty dollars apiece to buy things for 
their women and children, and they would like to have a 
trunk apiece to carry their clothing in. As the weather 
is getting a little cold, we should like to have an overcoat 
apiece. We see you wearing overcoats, and we should 
like to have them." 

Some of them, who came to Port Dodge to state their 
grievances, wanted more than these. They wanted even 
the earth and it fenced in. 

Continual danger from the Indians made the pioneers 
of early days continually apprehensive of Indian attack 
and continually on their guard against surprise, and 
keenly watchful when any suspicious move on the part of 

— 97 — 



the Indians was observed. Naturally, this caution and 
watchfulness were, at times, somewhat overdone, Indian 
alarms sometimes proving groundless, and precautions, 
against seemingly threatened outbreak, proving needless, 
or even laughable. 

In the fall of 1874 I went to Texas, and when I came 
home I found my partner, Mr. H. L. Sitler, who was 
interested with me in a government hay contract, laid 
up with a bad flesh wound he had received in a fight 
with the Indians only the day before, and the men in 
camp thirty miles west of Fort Dodge badly demoralized, 
as the Indians had jumped them a time or two very 
recently. I mounted a good horse, taking with me a 
fine rifle and two revolvers, and started for camp, where 
I arrived about sundown that night. I had a long talk 
with the boss, and I promised to stay right with them, 
which promise and my cheering conversation soon placed' 
them in good humor, and they declared their intention to 
keep on at work. In the night there came on one of our 
late, cold, misty, drizzling rains, The tent was leaky and 
the next morning we all got up feeling wet and generally 
miserable. The storm looked as if it had set in for the 
week. Of course, I did not want to remain there, but 
the only compromise, after my promise of the evening 
before, was to leave with the boss my fine rifle, as well 
as my horse, and ride back in its place an old, wornout 
one. I thought that anything was better than staying 
there ; so I exchanged horses, left my rifle, and started 
for Fort Dodge. 

The misty rain was constantly beating in my face, 
so that it almost blinded me. I left the main road and 
took the trail, or near cut-off, around by the river, and 
when I got about ten miles from camp, and at nearly the 
place where Mr. Sitler was shot, up jumped, as I thought, 
a lot of Indians, yelling and shouting. They seemed to 
be traveling in Indian file, one right behind the other, as 

— 98 — 



I had often seen them. Thinks I to myself, I will just 
fool you; I will make a long detour around the hollow 
and come back into the trail about two miles below here, 
and you fellows are trying to cut me off. When I don't 
come out below^ as you expect me to do, you will go over 
to the main road and watch there. So I carried out my 
plan and came back to the place two miles below, but they 
were again running and yelling ahead of me, it seemed, 
worse than before. I tried it again, with the same result. 
Then I went out to the main road, chose my position, ana 
waited for their coming, intending to shoot my old horse 
and then lie behind him. How many times I wished I had 
not left my good horse in camp, as I coulld easily have 
run away from the Indians; and I further cursed my 
luck that I was so foolish as to give up my rifle also. 
After waiting and waiting in the rain, until I was com- 
pletely soaked and tired out, expecting them to be on me 
every minute, I thought I would go back to the trail along 
the rough breaks by the river and take my chances. 
When I got back the last time, up they jumped again; 
but the wind and rain had let up a little and I saw what 
I had taken for Indians was nothing but a fllock of blue 
cranes. You see the wind and rain were so blinding — 
one of those awfully cold, misty storms — that when I 
approached the river the birds would rise and merely 
skim along through the willows, one after another, and 
so I kept chasing them down stream a mile or more every 
time I scared them up ; but they scared me worse than I 
scared them ; they chased me back to the main road nearly 
frightened to death. We had many a hearty laugh over 
my fright from the cranes. 



99 — 



CHAPTER VI 
Wild Days With the Soldiers 

As has been stated, the site of Fort Dodge was an 
old camping ground for trains going to New Mexico. The 
government was obliged to erect a fort here, but even then 
the Indians struggled for the mastery, and made many 
attacks, not only on passing trains, but on the troops 
themselves. I witnessed the running off of over one 
hundred horses, those of Captain William Thompson's 
troop of the Seventh United States Cavalry. The savages 
killed the guard and then defied the garrison, as they 
knew the soldiers had no horses on which to follow them. 
Several times have I seen them run right into the fort, 
cut off and gather up what loose stock there was around, 
and kill and dismount and deliberately scalp one or more 
victims, whom they had caught outside the garrison, 
before the soldiers could mount and follow. 

Early one very foggy morning they made a descent 
on a large body of troops, mostly infantry, with a big 
lot of transportation. At this time the government waa 
preparing for a campaign against them. It was a bold 
thing to do, but they made a brave dash right into and 
among the big mule trains. It was so dark and foggy 
that nothing was seen of them until they were in the 
camp, and they made a reign of bedlam for a short time. 
They succeeded in cutting about fifty mules loose from 
the wagons and getting away with them, and killing, 
scalping, and mutilating an old hunter named Ralph, just 
as he was in the act of killing a coyote he had caught in 
a steel trap, not three hundred yards from the mule camp. 
Of course they shot him with arrows, and then speared 
him, so that no report should be heard from the camp. 
"Boots and saddles" was soon sounded, and away went 
two companies of cavalry, some scouts following, or at 

— 100 — 




oo 
I- 

QO 



o 
o 
o 
Q 



least acting as flankers, I among the latter. The cavalry 
kept to the road while we took to the hills. In the course 
of time we came up to the Indians — the fog still very- 
heavy — and were right in among them before we knew it. 
Then came the chase. First we ran them, and then they 
turned and chased us. They outnumbered us ten to one. 
More than once did we draw them down within a mile or 
two of the cavalry, when we would send one of our number 
back and plead with the captain to help us ; but his reply 
was that he had orders to the contrary, and could not 
disobey. I did not think he acted from fear or was a 
coward, but I told him afterward he lost an opportunity 
that day to make his mark and put a feather in his cap ; 
and I believe he thought so, too, and regretted he had 
not made a charge regardless of orders. 

In a previous chapter, the account was given of the 
massacre of the little Mexican train and the scattering 
of their flour and feather beds upon the bluffs near the 
site of Fort Dodge, but before the fort was established. 
On the bottom immediately opposite is where Colonel 
Thompson's horses of the troop of the Seventh Cavalry 
were run off by the Indians. One of the herders on duty 
jumped into the river and was killed ; the other unfortun- 
ately or fortunately was chased by the savages right into 
the parade ground of the fort before the last Indian leav- 
ing him, grabbing at his brridle-rein in his determined 
effort to get the soldier's horse. The persistent savage 
had fired all his arrows at the trooper, and the latter, 
when taken to the hospital, had two or three of the cruel 
shafts stuck in his back, from the effect of which wounds 
he died in a few hours. 

Major Kidd, or Major Yard, I do not remember which 
just now, was in command at Fort Lamed, and had 
received orders from department headquarters not to 
permit less than a hundred wagons to pass the fort at one 
time, on account of the danger from Indians, all of whom 

— 101 — 



/ 



were on the warpath. One day four or five ambulances 
from the Missouri river arrived at the fort filled with 
New Mexico merchants and traders on the way home to 
their several stations. In obedience to his orders, the 
commanding officer tried to stop them. After laying 
at Larned a few days, the delay became very wearisome ; 
they were anxious to get back to their business, which 
was suffering on account of their prolonged absence. 
They went to the commanding officer several times, 
begging and pleading with him to allow them to proceed. 
Finally he said: "Well, old French Dave, the guide and 
interpreter of the post, is camped down the creek; go 
and consult him; I will abide by what he says." So, 
armed with some fine old whisky and the best brand of 
cigars, which they had brought from St. Louis, they went 
in a body down to French Dave's camp, and, after filling 
him with their elegant liquor and handing him some of 
the cigars, they said: "Now, Dave, there are twenty of 
us here, all bright young men who are used to the frontier ; 
we have plenty of arms and ammunition, and know how 
to use them; don't you think it safe for us to go 
through?" Dave was silent; they asked the question 
again, but he slowly puffed away at his fine cigar and 
said nothing. When they put the question to him for a 
third time, Dave deliberately, and without looking up, 
said : ' ' One man go troo twenty time ; Indian no see you. 
Twenty mans go troo one time and Indian kill every 
s — — b — of you. ' ' 

General Sheridan w^as at Fort Dodge in the summer 
of 1866, making every preparation to begin an active and 
thorough campaign against the Indians. One day he 
perceived, at a long distance south, something approach- 
ing the post which, with the good field-glass, we took to 
be a flag of truce — the largest flag of the kind, I suppose, 
that was ever employed for a like purpose. Little Raven 
had procured an immense white wagon-sheet and nailed 
it to one of his long, straight tepee poles, and lashed it 

— 102 — 



upright to his ambulance. He marched in with a band 
of his warriors to learn whether he was welcome, and to 
tell the big general he would be in the next sleep with all 
his people to make a treaty. Sheridan told him that 
maybe he could get them in by the next night, and maybe 
he had better say in two or three sleeps from now. Little 
Raven said: *'No; all we want is one sleep." The time 
he asked for was granted by the general, but this was the 
last Sheridan ever saw of him until the band made its 
usual treaty that winter. The wary old rascal used this 
ruse to get the women and children out of the way before 
using hostilities. The first time he came after peace was 
declared he was minus his ambulance. I asked him what 
had become of it. He replied: "Oh, it made too good 
a trail for the soldiers ; they followed us up day after day 
by its tracks. Then I took it to pieces, hung the wheels in 
a tree, hid the balance of it here and there, and every- 
where, in the brush, and buried part of it." 

During the same expedition, after the main command 
had left the fort with all the guides and scouts, there 
were some important dispatches to be taken to the com- 
mand. Two beardless youths volunteered to carry them. 
They had never seen a hostile Indian, or slept a single 
night on a lonely plain, but were fresh from the states. I 
knew that it was murder to allow them to go, and I 
pitied them from the bottom of my heart. They were full 
of enthusiasm, however, and determined to go. I gave 
them repeated warnings and advice as to how they should 
travel, how they should camp, and what precaution to 
take, and they started. They never reached the command, 
but were captured in the brush on Beaver creek about 
dusk one evening — taken alive without ever firing a shot. 
The savages had been closely watching them, and when 
they had unsaddled their horses and gone into the brush 
to cook their supper, (having laid down their arms on 
their saddles), the Indians jumped them, cut their throats, 
scalped them, and stripped them naked. 

— 103 — 



Drunken Tom Wilson, as he was called, left a few 
days afterward with dispatches for the command, which 
he reached without accident, just as French Dave had 
intimated to the New Mexico merchants about one man 
going through safely. It made Tom, however, too rash 
and brave. Give him a few canteens of whisky and he 
would go anywhere. I met him after his trip at Fort 
Larned one day when he was about starting to Fort 
Dodge. I said: "Tom, wait until tonight and we will 
go with you," but he declined; he thought he was 
invulnerable and left for the post. On the trail that 
night, as I and others were going to Fort Dodge, under 
cover of darkness, our horses shied at something lying 
in the road as we were crossing Coon creek. We learned 
afterwards that it was the body of drunken Tom and his 
old white horse. The Indians had laid in wait for him 
there under the bank of the creek, and killed both him 
and his horse, I suppose, before he had a chance to fire a 
shot. 

Two scouts, Nate Marshall and Bill Davis, both brave 
men, gallant riders, and splendid shots, were killed at 
Mulberry creek by the Indians. It was supposed they had 
made a determined fight, as a great many cartridge shells 
were found near their bodies, at the foot of a big cotton- 
wood tree. But it appears that was not so. I felt a 
deep interest in Marshall, because he had worked for me 
for several years; he was well acquainted with the sign 
language, and terribly stuck on the Indian ways — ^I reckon 
the savage maidens, particularly. He was so much of an 
Indian himself that he could don breech-clouts and live 
with them for months at a time ; in fact, so firmly did he 
think he had ingratiated himself with them, that he 
believed they would never kill him. Ed. Gurrier, a half- 
breed and scout, had often written him from Fort Lyon 
not to be too rash; that the Indians would kill anyone 
when they were at war; they knew no friends among 
the white men. Marshall and Davis were ordered to 

— 104 — 



carry dispatches to General Sheridan, then in the field. 
They arrived at Camp Supply, where the general was at 
that time, delivered their dispatches, and were immed- 
iately sent back to Fort Dodge with another batch of 
dispatches and a small mail. When they had ridden to 
within twenty miles of Fort Dodge, they saw a band of 
Arapahoes and Cheyennes emerging from the brush on 
the Mulberry. They quicklly hid themselves in a deep 
cut on the left of the trail as it descends the hill going 
southwest, before the Indians got a glimpse of them, as 
the ravine was deep enough to perfectly conceal both 
them and their horses, and there they remained until, 
as they thought, the danger had passed. 

Unfortunately for them, however, one of the savages, 
from some cause, had straggled a long way behind the 
main body. Still the scouts could have made their escape, 
but Marshall very foolishly dismounted, called to the 
Indian, and made signs for him to come to him; they 
would not hurt him; not to be afraid; they only wanted 
to know who were in the party, where they were going, 
and what they were after. Marshall imposed such 
implicit confidence in the Indians that he never believed 
for a moment that they would kill him, but he was mis- 
taken. The savage to whom Marshall had made the sign 
to come to him was scared to death ; he shot off his pistol, 
which attracted the attention of the others, who immed- 
iately came dashing back on the trail, and were right 
upon the scouts before the latter saw them. It was then 
a race for the friendly shelter of the timber on the creek 
bottom. But the fight was too unequal; the savages 
getting under just as good a cover as the scouts. The 
Indians fired upon them from every side until the unfor- 
tunate men were soon dispatched, and one of their horses 
killed; the other, a splendid animal, was captured by the 
Cheyennes, but the Arapahoes claimed him because they 
said there were twice as many of them. Consequently, 

— 105 — 



there arose a dispute over the ownership of the horse, 
when one of the more deliberate savages pulled out his 
six-shooter and shot the horse dead. Then he said: 
"Either side may take the horse that wants him." This 
is generally the method employed by the Indians to settle 
any dispute regarding the ownership of live property. 

As an example of the encounters the soldiers had so 
frequently with the Indians, in frontier days, there cannot 
be a better than that of the battle of Little Coon creek, 
in 1868. I did not take part in this fight, but I was at 
Fort Dodge at the time, knew the participants, and was 
present when the survivors entered the fort, after the 
fray was over. One of the scouts who took part, Mr. Lee 
Herron, still lives, at Saint Paul, Nebraska, and I am 
indebted to him for the following account of the fight and 
the copy of the accompanying song, which he compiled 
for me, very recently, with his own hand. 

FIGHT AT LITTLE COON CREEK. 

During 1868 the Indians were more troublesome than 
at any previous time in the history of the old Santa Fe 
Trail — so conceded by old plainsmen, scouts and Indian 
fighters at that time. It was a battle ground from old 
Fort Harker to Fort Lyon, or Bent's Old Fort at the 
mouth of the Picketware, near where it empties into the 
Arkansas river. The old Santa Fe Trail had different out- 
fitting points at the east, and at different periods. At 
one time it started at Westport, now Kansas City, at an 
earlier date at Independence, Missouri, and at one time — 
in the fore part of the nineteenth century — at St. Louis, 
Missouri; but from 1860 to 1867 the principal outfitting 
point was at Leavenworth, Kansas, and its principal 
destination in the west was Fort Union and Santa Fe, 
New Mexico. But Fort Dodge and vicinity was the 
central point from which most of the Indian raids culmi- 
nated and depredations were committed. The Indians 
became so annoying in 1868 that the Barlow Sanderson 

— 106 — 



stage line, running from Kansas City, Missouri, to Santa 
Fe, New Mexico, found it necessary to abandon the line 
as there were not enough soldiers to escort the stages 
through. Also the Butterfield stage line on the Smoky 
Hill route was abandoned. Several of the southern tribes 
of Indians consisted of Kiowas, Comanches, Arapahoes, 
Cheyennes, Apaches and Dog Soldiers. The Dog Soldiers 
consisted of renegades of all the other tribes and were a 
desperate bunch, with Charley Bent as their leader. Also 
the Sioux, a northern tribe, was on the warpath and allied 
themselves with the southern tribes. In all some five 
thousand or more armed Indians joined forces to drive the 
white people off the plains, and it almost looked for a 
time as though they would succeed, for they were in 
earnest and desperate. Had they been better armed, our 
losses would have been much heavier than they were as 
they greatly outnumbered us. It was a common occur- 
rence for us to fight them one to ten, and often one to 
twenty or more, but the Indians frequently had to depend 
entirely upon their bows and arrows, as at times they 
had no ammunition. This placed them at a disadvantage 
at long range as their bows and arrows were not efficient 
over two hundred feet, but at close range, from twenty- 
five to one hundred feet, their arrows were as deadly as 
bullets, if not more so. So after the stage line was dis- 
continued, a detail was made of the most fearless and 
determined men of the soldiers stationed at Fort Dodge, 
as a sort of pony express, which was in commission at 
night time, as it would be impossible to travel in the day- 
time with less than a troop of cavalry or a company of 
infantry, and they had no assurance of getting through 
without losing a good part of the men, or perhaps the 
entire troop, and the entire troop would stand a big 
chance of being massacred. Indeed, in the fall of 1868 — 
October, I think — I joined Tom Wallace's scouts and 
went with the Seventh United States Cavalry and several 
companies of infantry, Wallace's scouts and a company 

— 107 — 



of citizen scouts, with California Joe in command, all under 
command of General Alfred Sully, a noted Indian fighter 
of the early days. The command started south, crossing 
the Arkansas river just above Fort Dodge. From the 
time we left the Arkansas river it was a constant skirmish 
until we reached the Wichita mountains, the winter home 
of the southern tribes. After we got into the mountains, 
the Indians crowded us so hard that the whole command 
was compelled to retreat, and had not the command 
formed in a hollow square, with all non-combatants in 
the center, it might have proved disastrous. As it was, a 
number were killed and some were taken prisoners and 
burned at the stake and terribly tortured. A very inter- 
esting article could be written about this expedition, and 
I think but a very little is known of it, as there is but 
a sentence relating to it in history. 

Fort Dodge was the pivot and distributing base of 
supplies in 1868, and thrilling events were taking place 
all the time. All trains were held up and some captured 
and burned, and all who were with the train were killed 
or captured, and the captured were subjected to the 
most excruciating torture and abuse. I saw one party 
which was massacred up west of Dodge. Not a soul was 
left to tell who they were or where they were going, and 
no doubt their friends looked for them for many years, 
and at last gave up in despair. I served in the Civil War 
in Company C, Eighty-third Pennsylvania Volunteers, and 
we sustained the heaviest losses numerically of any 
regiment in the entire Union army, except the Fifth New 
Hampshire. This is according to war records compiled 
by Colonel Fox. But there were many times along the 
old Santa Fe trail where the percentage of losses was 
greater than in the Civil War. However, there is no 
record kept of it that I am aware of. Of course in these 
fights there were but a few men engaged, where in the 
Civil War there were tens of thousands and many thou- 
sands lost their lives, and a few hundred men who lost 

— 108 — 



their lives out on the great plains was scarcely known 
except to those in the vicinity — hundreds of miles from 
civilization. 

On the night of September first, 1868, I was coming 
from Port Larned with mail and dispatches when I met 
a mule team and government wagon loaded with wood, 
going to Big Coon creek, forty miles east of Fort Dodge, 
as there was a small sod fort located there, garrisoned 
with a sergeant and ten men. These few men could hold 
this place against twenty times their number as it was all 
earth and sod, with a heavy clay roof, and port-holes all 
around, and they could kill off the Indians about as fast 
as they would come up, as long as their ammunition held 
out. But they were not safe outside a minute. They had 
been depending on buffalo chips for fuel, as there was no 
other fuel available, and as soon as the men would attempt 
to go out to gather buffalo chips, the Indians lying in 
little ravines of which there was a number close by, 
would let a shower of arrows or bullets into them. The 
reason why the men with the wagon whom I have men- 
tioned were going to Big Coon Creek was to take them 
wood. I told the boys who were with the wagon to under 
no consideration leave Big Coon creek, or Fort Coon as 
we called it, until a wagon train came by, and if they 
would not wait for a wagon train, by all means to wait 
until it got good and dark, as the Indians are inclined to 
be suspicious at night time, and not so apt to attack as in 
daytime. The men, whose names were Jimmy Goodman, 
Company B, Eeventh United States Cavalry, Hartman and 
Tolen, Company F, Third United States Infantry, and 
Jack 'Donald, Company A, Third United States Infantry, 
imagined I was over-cautious, and started back the after- 
noon of September fourth, 1868. 

I, after parting with them, continued on towards Fort 
Dodge, where I arrived just before daylight, the morning 
of September second, Aft'i- lying down and having a 

— 109 — 



much needed sleep, and rest, I, in the evening, went up to 
Tapan's sutler store. I noticed the Indians' signals of 
smoke in different directions, and I knew this foreboded 
serious trouble. They signaled by fire at night and smoke 
by day, and could easily communicate with one another 
fifty or sixty miles. I had not been at the sutler store 
long, where I was in conversation with some of the scouts. 
There were a number of famous scouts at Fort Dodge at 
that time consisting of such men as California Joe, Wild 
Bill Hickok, Apache Bill, Bill Wilson and quite a number 
of others whose names I have forgotten, but I noticed the 
enlisted men had to stand the brunt of the work. I never 
could understand why this was and it is a mystery to me, 
except these scouts of fame were too precious, and soldiers 
didn't count for much for there were more of them. 
While I was standing talking, an orderly came up to me 
and said the commanding officer wanted to see me at once. 
It was nearly night at this time. I at once reported to the 
commanding officer. He informed me that he wanted me 
to select a reliable man and be ready to start with dis- 
patches for Fort Larned, seventy-five miles east on the 
wet route, or sixty-five miles east on the dry route. As I 
had just come in that morning, I thought it peculiar he 
did not select some of those noble spirits I had just left at 
the sutler's store, but it was possible he was saving them 
up for extreme emergency, but I could not see from the 
outlook of the surroundings as the emergency would be 
any more acute than at the present time, as the terms of 
the dispatch we were to take, if I remember right, were 
for reinforcements. I selected a man of Company B, 
Troop Seven, United States Cavalry, named Paddy Boyle, 
who had no superior for bravery and determination when 
in dangerous quarters, on the whole Santa Fe Trail. 
Paddy sleeps under the sod of old Kentucky. For many 
years he had no peer and few equals as a staunch, true 
friend and brave man. As luck would have it on this 
night Boyle selected one of the swiftest and best winded 

— 110 — 




Dr. T. L. McCarty 
One of the Seven Old Timers of Dodge City 



horses at the fort, and only for that I would not have 
been permitted to ever see Fort Dodge again, for that 
horse, as later will be seen, saved our lives. We had our 
canteens filled with government whisky before we started, 
as a prevention for rattlesnake bites, as rattlesnakes were 
thick in those days, or any other serious event which 
might occur, and often did occur in those strange days on 
the Great Plains. 

I felt a premonition unusual and Boyle did too, and 
several of our friends came and bade us good-bye, which 
was rather an unusual occurrence. I don't think the com- 
manding officer thought we would ever get through, for 
Indian night signals were going up in all directions, which 
indicated that they were very restless. 

When we arrived near Little Coon creek we heard 
firing and yelling in front of us. We went down into a 
ravine leading in the direction we were going, cautiously 
approaching nearer w^here the firing was going on, and 
made the discovery that the Indians had surrounded what 
we supposed to be a wagon train. We knew somebody 
was in trouble and could at this time see objects seated 
all around on the nearby plains, which proved to be 
Indians, but as yet we had not been seen by the Indians 
or, if they did see us, they took us for some of their own 
party as it was night. They were so busy with the wagon 
train that they didn't know we were whites until we 
went dashing through their midst, whooping and yelling 
like Comanches, and firing right and left. Instead of 
being a wagon train as we thought it was, it proved to 
be the party we last met at or near Big Coon creek with 
the wood wagon, and we arrived just in time to save 
them from being massacred. At this time the Indians 
made a desperate charge, but were repulsed and driven 
back in good style. When I looked the ground over and 
saw what a poor place it was to make a fight against such 
odds, I knew that as soon as it got daylight we were sure 

— 111 — 



to lose our scalps, and that at any moment they might 
get in some good shots on one of their desperate charges, 
and disable or kill all of us. I suggested that either Boyle 
or myself try and cut his way through the Indians and 
go to the fort for assistance. As Boyle had the best horse 
in the outfit — a fine dapple-grey, the same horse prev- 
iously mentioned in this article — ^Boyle said he would 
make the attempt. 

He took a sip from his canteen and then handed it to 
me, saying we would probably need it more than he would, 
as he didn't propose to be taken alive and that if he got 
through he could drink at the other end of the line. It 
always seemed to me this noble horse understood the sit- 
uation and knew what was wanted of him. Our horses 
had a terrible dread of Indians. When Boyle started it 
needed no effort to induce the noble dapple-grey to go, 
for he darted away like a shot out of a gun. When Boyle 
left us, he had to go down in a deep ravine which was the 
bed of Little Coon creek, and where the main trail weaved 
to the right for a distance of perhaps two hundred yards 
in order to again get out of the ravine, as the banks were 
very steep and not prarcticable to go straight across. At 
this time some of the Indians attempted to head him off, 
and did so far as following the main trail was concerned, 
as I had a fairly good view of the top of the hill where 
Boyle should come out. At this time several shots were 
fired at Boyle, and not seeing him come out I supposed he 
was killed and told the men so, and there was no possible 
chance of us ever getting out that I could see. Up to this 
time we had been behind the wagon, but the Indians were 
circling all around us, and I could see we had to get into 
more secure shelter as all the protection we had was the 
wagon which was very poor protection from arrows and 
bullets. Within a short distance of us there was a deep 
buffalo wallow. When the Indians had quieted down a 
little, we, by strenuous efforts, pushed the wagon so it 

— 112 — 



stood over the buffalo wallow. After getting into the 
wallow we found conditions much improved so far as 
shelter from the firing was concerned and if our ammuni- 
tion was more plentiful we would have felt much more 
encouraged, but we knew unless relief came before day- 
light they would get us. But I will mention a little mat- 
ter that perhaps many of the good people of Kansas 
would not approve of, as Kansas is a prohibition state. 
The canteen full of whisky did a lot to keep up our spirits. 
Occasionally I would give each one a small amount and 
did not neglect myself. This little bit of stimulant, 
under these extremely unpleasant conditions had a very 
good effect, and I believe our aim was more steady and 
effective. 

The Indians charged repeatedly, uttering the most 
blood curdling yells. Most of the time they would be on 
the side of their horses so we could not see them, but hit- 
ting their ponies, the bullets would go through and 
occasionally get one of them. They several times charged 
up within a few feet of the wagon, but the boys were 
calm and took deadly aim and would drive them back 
every time. There were some of their ponies lying dead 
close to the wagon. It was seldom the Indians would 
make such desperate and determined efforts when there 
was nothing to gain except to get a few scalps, but I think 
at that time, in fact, at all times when they were on the 
warpath, a scalp-lock was more desirable to an Indian 
warrior than anything else their imagination could con- 
ceive. It was the ones who got the most scalps that were 
the most honored, and promotion to chiefs depended on 
the amount of scalps secured while out on expeditions on 
the warpath. I have known Indians to be cornered when 
they would make the most desperate fight, and fight until 
all were killed. 

At this time our ammunition was getting low and we 
saw we couldn't hold out much longer. Goodman had 

— 113 — 



been wounded seven times by arrows and bullets, Jack 
'Donald had been struck with a tomahawk and received 
other wounds, Nolan was wounded with arrows and bul- 
lets. This left Hartman and myself to stand off the 
Indians, and towards the last Hartman was wounded but 
not seriously disabling him. I would load my Remington 
revolver and hand it to Nolan, who was obliged to fire 
with his left hand, his right arm being shattered. The 
Indians charged right up to the wagons more than once. 
At one time 'Donald had a hand to hand encounter with 
one, and was struck on the head with a tomahawk. It 
was only by the most desperate exertions that anyone 
escaped. The party were entirely within their power 
more than once, but they would cease action to carry off 
their dead — which lost the Indians many a fight, as they 
thought if one of their number lost his scalp he could not 
enter the Happy Hunting Grounds. 

Finally we saw the Indians apparently getting ready 
for another rush from a different direction, fully expect- 
ing that they would get us if they did. At about the 
same time I noticed a body of horsemen coming out of a 
ravine in another direction. We supposed this was 
another tactful dodge of the Indians and they would 
come at us from two ways. At this time we hadn't any 
prospect or hope of saving our lives. Had we had plenty 
of ammunition we could have probably held them off for 
awhile, but ammunition we did not have, perhaps not over 
a dozen rounds. It was understood by all of us that we 
would not be taken alive, but that each one's last shot 
was to be used on himself. 

What seemed extremely mysterious was when the 
body of horsemen, just previously mentioned, came out of 
the ravine, the men on the horses seemed to be dressed in 
white, and as they came on to high ground, deployed a 
skirmish line. I had seen Indians form a line of battle 
occasionally, but it was not common for them to do so. 

— 114 — 



After they had advanced within three hundred or four 
hundred feet of us we were still undecided who they were, 
but they acted and had more the appearance of white men 
than Indians. But relief we hadn't the least hope of. It 
was hard to realize that any assistance could possibly 
reach us, as there were no scouting parties out that we 
knew of, and we had every reason to believe Boyle was 
killed and never reached the fort. This body of men 
dressed in white halted about three hundred feet from us 
and stood there like a lot of ghosts. (The reader must 
remember this was in the night time and we could not 
make out objects plainly. Had it been daytime we could 
of course readily have seen who they were). 

The suspense at this time was becoming very acute. 
I told the men I would risk one shot at them and end the 
suspense. But at this Goodman raised his head and look- 
ing in the direction of the horsemen remarked, "I believe 
they are our own men; don't fire." I was about of the 
same opinion, but the Indians were always resorting to 
some trickery. I had about made up my mind they were 
trying to deceive us and make us think they were white 
men. Finally one of them hollered, speaking in English, 
that they were friends. But that didn't satisfy me as the 
renegade Bent boys were with the Dog Soldiers and could 
speak good English, and were always resorting to every 
conceivable form of fraudulent devices to get the advant- 
age of white people. They had been the means of causing 
the deaths of scores of people in this way. 

At this time each one of our party was prepared to 
take his own life if necessary, rather than to be taken 
prisoner, for being captured only meant burning at the 
stake, with the most brutal torture conceivable. We knew 
we did not have sufficient ammunition to resist another 
charge, and if we fired what little ammunition we had we 
would have none to take our own lives with. I hollered 
to one of the horsemen for one of them to advance. At 

— 115 — 



once a horseman came riding up with his carbine held 
over his head, which those days was a friendly sign. After 
he came up within about fifty feet, I recognized Paddy 
Boyle, as though he had risen from the dead. The whole 
command advanced then and it was a squadron of the 
Seventh United States cavalry. The joy experienced in 
being relieved from our perilous position may be imagined. 
Shaking hands and cheering and congratulations were in 
full force. Soon after the cavalry arrived, it might have 
been an hour, another command of infantry came in on a 
run with wagons and ambulances, and accompanying 
them was a government doctor; I think his name was 
Degraw, post surgeon, and a noble man he was. He had 
the wounded gently cared for and placed in the ambu- 
lances and they received the kindest of attention and 
care in the hospital at Fort Dodge until able to be around, 
but I don 't think any of them ever recovered fully. 

It might be of interest to the reader to know why 
these horsemen were dressed in white, as I have previously 
mentioned. It was an ironclad custom in those strenuous 
and thrilling times for every man to take his gun to bed 
with him or "lay on their arms," as the old army term 
gives it, loaded and ready for action at a moment's notice, 
with their cartridge box and belt within their reach. The 
men those days were issued white cotton flannel under- 
clothes, and as the weather was warm, no time w^as taken 
to put on their outside clothes, but every man immediately 
rushed to the stables at the first sound of the bugle which 
sounded to horse, and mounted at one blast. When this 
call was sounded it was known that an extreme 
emergency was at hand and men's lives in jeopardy. This 
white underclothing accounts for the mysterious look of 
the troopers when they made their appearance at Little 
Coon Creek, and the mysterious actions of the squadron 
in not advancing up to us when they first arrived, can be 
explained that they did not know the situation of affairs, 

— 116 — 



as there was no firing at that particular time, and they 
were using extreme caution for fear they would run into 
an ambush, of part of the Indians. I think, if I remember 
rightly, there were four Indians who followed Boyle right 
up to the east picket line at the fort, and had he had to 
go a mile farther he never could have made it to the 
fort. The noble dapple grey horse, if I remember rightly, 
died from the effects of the fierce run he made to save 
our lives. 

General Alfred Sully who was at that time in com- 
mand of the troops in the Department, and who was an 
old and successful Indian fighter, issued an order com- 
plimenting the party on their heroic and desperate 
defense that they made and also for mine and Boyle's 
action in charging through the Indians to their assistance. 
As there were scores of little skirmishes, and some big 
ones taking place on the old Santa Fe trail all the time 
at some portion of it, it was generally conceded that the 
Little Coon Creek engagement was the most desperate 
fight for anyone to come out alive. There were prob- 
ably as desperate ones fought, but none ever lived to 
tell it. This is the only instance I know of where a Gen- 
eral United States Officer had an order issued and read 
publicly to the troops of the different forts in the Depart- 
ment, commending the participants of a small party in an 
Indian fight for heroic action. How any of the party ever 
escaped is a mystery to me today and always has been. 
It was reported after peace was declared that Satanta, 
head chief of the Kiowas, admitted that in the Little 
Coon Creek fight the Indian warrior losses were twenty- 
two killed besides a number wounded. I did not count 
the number of times the wagon was struck with arrows 
and bullets, but parties who said they did count them 
reported the wagon was struck five hundred times, and 
I have not a doubt that this is true, for arrows were 
sticking out like quills on the back of a porcupine, and 

— 117 — 



the sideboards and end of the wagon was perforated with 
bullets. The mules were riddled with bullets. Two pet 
prairie dogs which the boys had in the wagon in a little 
box were both killed. The general order which was 
issued by General Alfred Sully, only mentions four 
Indians being killed, but these being left on the ground 
were all that could be seen. It is well known among old 
Indian fighters that Indians on the war-path and losing 
their warriors in battle will always carry off their dead 
if possible. It is very often their custom to tie their 
buffalo hide lariats around their body or connect with a 
belt and the other end fastened to their saddle when going 
into battle, and then if they are shot off their ponies, 
their ponies were trained to drag them off, or at least 
until some of their brother warriors came to his assist- 
ance ; then two would come up, one on each side, on a 
dead run, reach down and grab him. If he was attached 
to a lariat, they would cut it in an instant and off they 
would go, but it was a common thing for the rescuers 
to get shot in their heroic efforts to save their comrades. 
I have witnessed proceedings of this kind a number of 
times, and there have been many instances where two or 
three warriors would be shot trying to rescue a comrade. 

*j^ 4& 4^ ^ 4^ 4& ^ts 

TP W TP TP TT TT "»• 

The writer saw the above-mentioned wagon after it 
was brought into Fort Dodge, and it was literally filled 
with arrows and bullet holes, and the bottom of the wagon 
bed was completely covered with blood as were the ends 
and sides where the wounded leaned over and up against 
them. I never saw a butcher's wagon that was any 
bloodier. 

Mr. Herron concludes the story of the fight as 
follows : 



— 118 — 



SONG 

Calm and bright shone the sun on the morning, 

That four men from Fort Dodge marched away, 
With food and supplies for their comrades — 

They were to reach Big Coon Creek that day ; 
'Tis a day we shall all well remember, 

That gallant and brave little fight, 
How they struggled and won it so bravely — 

Though wounded, still fought through the night. 

Chorus : 

So let's give three cheers for our comrades. 

That gallant and brave little band. 
Who, against odds, would never surrender, 

But bravely by their arms did they stand. 
Fifty Indians surprised them while marching, 

Their scalps tried to get, but in vain ; 
The boys repulsed them at every endeavor. 

They were men who were up to their game. 

** Though the red-skins are ten times our number, 

We coolly on each other rely." 
Said the corporal in charge of the party, 

"We'll conquer the foe or we'll die!" 

Still they fought with a wit and precision ; 

Assistance at last came to hand. 
Two scouts on the action appearing. 

To strengthen the weak little band. 
Then one charged right clear through the Indians, 

To Fort Dodge for help he did go. 
While the balance still kept up the fighting. 

And gallantly beat off the foe. 

A squadron of cavalry soon mounted, 

Their comrades to rescue and save. 
General Sully, he issued an order, 

Applauding their conduct so brave. 
And when from their wounds they recover. 

Many years may they live to relate. 
The fight that occurred in September, 

In the year eighteen sixty-eight. 

— 119 — 



This song was composed by Fred Haxby, September, 
1868, on the desperate fight at Little Coon creek, about 
thirty miles east of Fort Dodge, on the dry route, Sep- 
tember second, 1868. Fred Haxby, or Lord Haxby, as 
he was called, was from England, and at the time of the 
fight was at Fort Dodge. 

The song gives fifty Indians comprising the attacking 
party. This was done to make the verses rhyme, as I 
am sure there were many more than this. 

The tune this song was sung by, nearly a half a 
century ago, was the same as the one which went with 
the song commonly known at that time, ''When Sherman 
Marched Down To The Sea." Not, "Sherman's March 
Through Georgia." ''Sherman's March Through Geor- 
gia," and "Sherman's March To The Sea," were different 
songs and different airs. 

W TP TT "TT * ^ ^ ^ 

The author of this work is further indebted to Mr. 
Herron for another interesting story of soldier life in the 
wild days. It runs as follows: 

CAPTURING THE BOX FAMILY. 

Capturing the Box family from the Indians was one 
of the interesting events which took place at Fort Dodge, 
although the rescue of the two older girls took place 
south of Fort Dodge near the Wichita mountains, per- 
haps near two hundred miles. But the idea of getting 
the girls away from the Indians originated at Fort Dodge, 
with Major Sheridan, who, at the time, October, 1866, 
was in command of the fort. At this time, the troops 
garrisoning the fort consisted of Company A, Third 
United States infantry, of which I was a member, holding 
a non-commissioned officer's rank. 

On a sunshiny day about the first of October, 1866, 
the sentinel reported what appeared to be a small party 
of mounted men, approaching the fort from the south 

— 120 — 



side of the Arkansas river, perhaps two miles away, and 
just coming into sight out of a range of bluffs which 
ran parallel with the river. They proved to be Indians 
and the glittering ornaments with which each was deco- 
rated could be seen before either the Indians or their 
ponies. After the Indians came down to the river and 
were part way across, a guard, consisting of a corporal 
and two men, met them at the north bank of the river, 
just below the fort, and halted them. It was noticed they 
carried a pole to which was attached an old piece of what 
had at one time been a white wagon cover, but which 
at this time was a very dirty white. This was to repre- 
sent a flag of truce and a peaceful mission, which idea 
they had got from the whites, though the Indians were 
very poor respecters of flags of truce. When approached 
with one by white men, they, on several occasions, killed 
the bearers of the flag, scalped them, and used their 
scalps to adorn their wigwams. They considered the flag 
a kind of joke and rated the bearer as an easy mark. 

The guard learned from the Indians that they were 
Kiowas, old chief Satanta's tribe. Fred Jones, who was 
Indian interpreter at Fort Dodge, was requested to come 
down and ascertain what was wanted. The Indians 
informed Jones that they had two pale-faced squaws 
whom they wished to trade for guns, ammunition, coffee, 
sugar, flour — really, they wanted about all there was 
in the fort, as they set a very high value on the two 
girls. 

By instructions of the commanding officer, they were 
permitted to come into the fort to talk the matter over. 
After passing the pipe around and each person in council 
taking a puff, which was the customary manner of pro- 
cedure, they proceeded to negotiate a ''swap," as the 
Indians termed it. The Indians wanted everything in 
sight, but a trade or swap was finally consummated by 
promising the Indians some guns, powder and lead, some 

— 121 — 



coffee, sugar, flour and a few trinkets, consisting mainly 
of block tin, which was quite a bright, glittering tint. 
This was used to make finger rings, earrings and brace- 
lets for the squaws. The bracelets were worn on both 
ankles and arms of the squaws and, when fitted out with 
their buckskin leggings and short dresses, covered with 
beads, they made a very attractive appearance. 

The Indians knew they had the advantage and drove 
a sharp bargain — at least, they thought they did. They 
insisted on the goods being delivered to their camp near 
the Wichita mountains, which was quite an undertaking, 
considering that a white man had never been in that secr 
tion except as a prisoner, a renegade, or possibly an 
interpreter. Two wagons and an ambulance were ordered 
to be got ready, and the wagons were loaded. Our party 
consisted of Lieutenant Heselberger of Company A, Third 
United States infantry, an old experienced Indian fighter, 
one non-commissioned officer, (myself), and seven pri- 
vates, with Fred Jones as interpreter. We crossed the 
river about a half mile below Fort Dodge and took a 
southerh^ course, traveling for days before we came to 
the Kiowa camp. One evening, just as the sun was going 
down, we came to a high hill, and as we gained the crest, 
going in a southeasterly direction, I witnessed the most 
beautiful sight I ever saw. 

The whole Kiowa tribe, several thousands in number, 
were camped on the banks of a beautiful sheet of water, 
half a mile away. The sun setting and the sun's rays 
reflecting on the camp, gave it a fascinating appearance. 
Hundreds of young warriors, mounted on their beautiful 
ponies, and all dressed in their wild, barbaric costume, 
bedecked with glittering ornaments, were drilling and 
going through artistic maneuvers on the prairie, making 
a scene none of us will ever forget. There were about 
three hundred lodges, all decorated as only an Indian 
could decorate them, being painted with many gaudy 

— 122 — 




City Hall 



colors. Many pappooses were strapped upon the more 
docile ponies, and, under the guidance of some warriors, 
were getting their first initiation into the tactics neces- 
sary to become a warrior; while squaws were engaged in 
tanning buffalo skins and going through the different 
movements necessary to a well organized wild Indian 
camp. Small fires were in commission in different parts 
of the camp, with little ringlets of smoke ascending from 
them, which, in the calm, lovely evening, made an exceed- 
ingly interesting scene, while off on the distant hills 
thousands of buffalo were peacefully grazing. 

Right here let me say that I have seen the Russian 
iCossacks on the banks of the river Volga, in southern 
Russia, and, while they have the reputation of being the 
finest and most graceful riders in the world, they did not 
compare, for fine horsemanship, with the American 
Indian of fifty years ago. 

As we halted and took in this beautiful panorama, 
a bugle call sounded, clear and distinct, in the Kiowa 
camp. Three or four hundred young warriors mounted 
their ponies, the charge was sounded, and they came 
dashing towards us. On they came, keeping as straight 
a line as any soldiers I ever saw. When about three 
hundred feet from us and just as we were reaching for 
our carbines (for everything had the appearance of a 
massacre of our little party, and we had determined when 
starting on this venturesome errand that if the Indians 
showed treachery, we would inflict all the punishment on 
them we possibly could before they got us, and would 
shoot ourselves rather than be captured alive ; for being 
captured meant burning at the stake and the most 
excruciating torture), the bugle sounded again, the In- 
dians made a beautiful move and filed to right and left 
of us, half on each flank, and escorted us to their camp 
which was but a short distance away. The bugler was a 
professional but we never knew who he was as he never 

— 123 — 



showed himself close enough to us to be recognizable, 
but he was supposed to be some renegade. On other 
occasions, when a battle was going on, these bugle calls 
were heard. At the battle of the Arickaree where Roman 
Nose, head chief of the Cheyennes attacked Forsythe's 
scouts, the bugle was heard sounding the calls all through 
the battle. 

The night we arrived at the Kiowa camp we were 
located on the banks of a creek. The young warriors 
commenced to annoy us in all manner of waj^s, trying to 
exasperate us to resent their annoyances so they could 
have an excuse to make an attack on us. At this time, 
Fred Jones and Lieutenant Heselberger, who had been up 
to Satanta's lodge, came to our camp and, seeing the 
taunts and annoyances to which we were being subjected, 
admonished us not to resent them, for if we did the whole 
partj^ would be massacred or made prisoners and burned 
at the stake. Jones, the interpreter, immediately went 
back to Satanta and reported the situation. Satanta, at 
once, had a guard of old warriors thrown around us and 
thus saved us from further annoyances. Not that Satanta 
was any too good or had any love for us that he should 
protect us, but at that immediate period it was not policy 
for him to make any rash movements. 

All night long the Indian drums were continually 
thumping and the Indians were having a big dance in 
their council chamber, which was always a custom, 
among the wild Indian tribes, when any unusual event 
was taking place. The next morning we were up bright 
and early, teams were hitched to the wagons and pro- 
ceeded to the center of the Indian camp in front of the 
council chamber, where the goods were unloaded. The 
two young girls were then turned over to us by one of the 
chiefs. They were a pitiful looking sight. They had 
been traded from one chief to another for nearly a year, 
and had been subjected to the most cruel and degrading 

— 124 — 



treatment. The eldest girl gave birth to a half-breed a 
short time after their rescue. One of the girls was seven- 
teen and the other fourteen years old. They had been 
captured near the Texas border and had been with the 
Indians some time, according to the story told us. The 
father, a man by the name of Box, the mother, and their 
four children were returning to their home, when they 
were overtaken by a band of Indians. The Indians killed 
Mr. Box because he refused to surrender; the youngest 
child w^as taken by the heels and its brains beaten out 
against a tree ; the mother and three children were taken 
back to the main camp. The mother and youngest child 
were taken to the Apache camp, an Apache chief pur- 
chasing them from the Kiowas. We felt confident that, 
later on, we would get possession of the mother and 
youngest child, for the Apaches would want to trade too, 
when they learned how the Kiowas had succeeded. But 
the articles which were traded to the Kiowas were of 
very poor quality. The guns were old, disused muzzle- 
loading rifles; the powder had but little strength, having 
lost its strength and a man would be quite safe, fifty feet 
away from it when discharged ; the lead was simply small 
iron bars, with lead coating; but the Indians seemed to 
think it was all right, as they didn't do much kicking, 
but people who, in a trade, would take a ten-cent ''shin- 
plaster" in preference to a twenty-dollar bill, were easy 
marks to deal with. 

After a long, hard march, we finally arrived again on 
the banks of the Arkansas River, which we had had little 
hopes of doing. Knowing the treacherous disposition of 
the Indians, we expected they would lie in ambush for us, 
so we were continually on the alert and always went into 
camp at a location where we had a good view for several 
rods around us. It took Custer's whole Seventh United 
States cavalry, in the winter of '68 and '69, to get some 
white women from the Indians, and the way he succeeded 
was by getting the head chiefs to hold a treaty, then tak- 

— 125 — 



ing them prisoners and holding them nntil the Indians 
surrendered the women. Our party's going into the 
Indian camp, as we did, was a very hazardous undertak- 
ing, and the only reason we ever got back was that the 
Apaches had the other two members of the Box family, 
they wanted to trade for them, and they knew if they 
killed us the trade would be off. Such a foolhardy 
undertaking was not attempted again, to my knowledge, 
in the years I was on the plains. 

When we arrived at Fort Dodge, we were given a 
very pleasant reception, and the young ladies received 
the tenderest care, but were naturally terribly distressed 
at their terrible sorrow and affliction. General Sherman, 
at this time, arrived at Fort Dodge. He had been on a 
tour of inspection of the frontier forts, and was then on 
his way to Washington. After learning what the com- 
manding officer had done, he instructed him not to send 
any more details on so hazardous an undertaking, and 
not to trade any more goods for prisoners, as it would 
only have the tendency to encourage the Indians to more 
stealing. 

As we expected, a few days after our return to Fort 
Dodge the sentry reported a party approaching from east 
of the fort. All that could be seen was the glittering, 
bright ornaments, dazzling in the sunlight, but shortly, 
the party approached close enough for it to be seen that 
they were Indians. They proved to be a party of Apaches, 
as we expected, chief Poor Bear being with them. When 
he was informed that the Indians were coming, Major 
Andrew Sheridan, who was still in command of Fort 
Dodge, sent the interpreter, Fred Jones, out to meet them 
and arrange with the head chief. Poor Bear, to come into 
the fort and hold a council, a customary thing in those 
days, when a trade was to be made. 

Fort Dodge was located on the north bank of the 
Arkansas River, and was in the shape of a half circle. 

— 126 — 



Close to the river was a clay bank about twelve feet high, 
where were a number of dugouts, with port-holes all 
around, in which the men were quartered, so that, if 
the Indians ever charged and took the fort, the men 
could fall back and retire to the dugouts. On the east 
side of the fort was a large gate. The officers were quar- 
tered in sod houses, located inside the inclosure. When 
Poor Bear and his warriors came into the fort. Major 
Sheridan informed them that the great chief, meaning 
General Sherman, had given instructions that no more 
goods would be delivered to the Indian camp in trade for 
white women, but if the woman and daughter were 
brought in, a council would be held to determine what 
could be done. At this, the Indians left for their camp to 
report progress. In about two weeks, we noticed Indians 
by the score, crossing from the south side of the river, 
below the fort about a mile, near where the old dry route 
formed a junction with the wet route. A guard at oncd 
was instructed to notify the Indians that they must not 
come any nearer the fort than they were, but must camp 
at a place designated by the commanding officer, nearly 
a mile below Fort Dodge. 

The Indians proved to be Apaches and the whole 
tribe came in, numbering about two thousand. They had 
brought along the white woman, Mrs. Box, and her young 
daughter, expecting to make a big ''swap." There was 
no intention of giving anything for them, but there was a 
plot to get the Indians in, gain possession of the chiefa 
and head men of the Apache tribe, and hold them as 
hostages until they would consent to surrender the woman 
and child. It was a desperate and dangerous experiment, 
for the Indians outnumbered us greatly. I don't think, 
at this time, there were over one hundred and seventy- 
five men, altogether, at Fort Dodge, including civilians, 
and against these was one of the most desperate tribes on 
the plains. When the time arrived for the council, about 
a hundred of the chiefs, medicine men, and leading men 

— 127 — 



of the Indians were let in through the big gate at the 
east side of the fort. As soon as they were inside, the 
gate was closed. "When they were all ready for the big 
talk, and the cnstomary pipe had been passed around, 
Major Sheridan instructed the interpreter to inform the 
Indians that they were prisoners, and that they would 
be held as hostages until Mrs. Box and her daughter were 
brought in and turned over to him. 

The Indians jumped to their feet in an instant, threw 
aside their blankets, and prepared for a fight. Prior to 
the time the Indians were admitted into the fort inclosure, 
the mountain howitzers had been double-shotted with 
grape and canister, the guns being depressed so as to 
sweep the ground where the Indians were located. Some 
of the soldiers were marching back and forth, with guns 
loaded and bayonets fixed, while a number of others, with 
revolvers concealed under their blouses, were sitting 
around watching the proceedings. The main portion of 
the garrison was concealed in the dugouts, the men all 
armed and provided with one hundred rounds of ammuni- 
tion per man. The Indians were all armed with toma- 
hawks which they had carefully concealed under their 
blankets. "When they were informed that they were 
prisoners, they made a dash for the soldiers in sight, as 
they were but few, the majority, as has been said, being 
hid in the dugouts; but when the men came pouring out 
of the dugouts and opened fire, the Indians fell back and 
surrendered. One of the old chiefs was taken up on the 
palisades of the fort and compelled to signal to his war- 
riors in their camp. In less than thirty minutes Mrs. Box 
and her child were brought to the big east gate, and one of 
the most affecting sights I ever witnessed was that of the 
mother and girls as they met and embraced each other. 
It was a sight once seen, never to be forgotten. 

Major Sheridan then told the interpreter to inform 
the Indians that they could go, warning them not to steal 

— 128 — 



any more women or children. But the warning was of no 
avail, for the next two years the frontier was terribly 
annoyed by Indian raids and depredations. 

There were but few fatalities when the soldiers 
opened fire on the Indians at the fort, as it was done 
more to intimidate than to kill. A representative of 
Harper's Weekly was at Fort Dodge, at the time, and 
took a number of photographs of the Indians and the Box 
family, but if there are any of the pictures in existence 
today, I am not aware of it, but I should like to have them 
if they exist. This piece of diplomacy on the part of the 
commanding officer of Fort Dodge cost scores of lives 
afterwards, for those Apaches went on the war-path and 
murdered every person they came across, until the 
Seventh United States cavalry caught up with and anni- 
hilated many of them, in the Wichita mountains, in 
November, 1868. 

All the great expeditions against the Indians, horse 
thieves, and bad men were organized and fitted out at 
Fort Dodge or Dodge City, because, as I remark else- 
where, they were at the edge of the last great frontier or 
the jumping-off place, the beginning and the end — the 
end of civilization, and the beginning of the badness and 
lawlessness of the frontier. Here civilization ended and 
lawlessness began. 

This gave rise to and the necessity for many great 
and notable men coming to Dodge, such as Generals Sher- 
man, Sheridan, Hancock, Miles, Custer, Sully, and many 
others, even including President Hayes. Dodge was ac- 
quainted with all of these, besides dukes and lords from 
over the water, who came out of curiosity. We feel proud 
that she knew these men, and General Miles told the 
writer that Fort Dodge should have been made one of our 
largest forts, at least a ten-company post. But he did 
not take in the situation in time, as it was the key to 
all the country south of us, and, had it been made a ten- 

— 129 — 



or twelve-company post, one can easily see how the garri- 
son could have controlled all the Indian tribes south, who 
were continually escaping from their agencies and going 
north, to visit, intrigue, and combine with the northern 
Indians, the northern tribes doing the same thing when 
they went south. The troops could have intercepted the 
Indians either way, and cut them off and sent them back 
before they were able to do any devilment. Particularly 
could this have been done when Dull Knife and "Wild Hog 
made their last raid through Kansas. There were only 
about seventy-five warriors, besides their women and 
children, in this little band, but they managed to make a 
laughing stock and a disgrace of our troops; at least, so 
it appeared from the actions of the officers who were sent 
after them. 

In September, 1868, at the Darlington Agency, there 
were, under the leadership of Wild Hog and Dull Knife, 
a small bunch of Cheyenne Indians, who had been moved 
from their northern agency and, for various reasons, were 
determined to go back, much against the wishes and 
orders of the United States government and also their 
agent, who positively forbade their going. They had 
secretly been making preparations for this tramp, for 
some time, but they had no horses, but few guns and 
ammunition, and very little provisions of any kind. Now, 
under these adverse circumstances, they stole away. 

As has been said, there were only seventy-five war- 
riors all told, outside of their women and children. Their 
first care was to get themselves mounts, then arms and 
ammunition, and provisions. Little by little, they stole 
horses and picked up guns and ammunition from the 
cattle camps and deserted homes of the frontier settlers, 
so, when they got within forty miles of Fort Dodge, 
south, they were supplied with horses, and fairly well 
supplied with their other wants. 

— 130 — 



On Sand Creek, they were confronted with two com- 
panies of cavalry and several parts of companies of 
infantry, with wagon transportation. These soldiers out- 
numbered the Indians nearly three to one ; besides, quite 
a lot of settlers and some cowboys had joined the troops. 
To be sure, the settlers were poorly armed, but they were 
of assistance, in some ways, to the troops. 

On their march, the Indians had scattered over a 
large scope of country. That is, the warriors did, while 
the women and children kept straight on in the general 
direction they wanted to go. But the warriors raided 
and foraged some fifteen or twenty miles on either side 
of the women and children, and at night they would all 
rendezvous together. This gave rise to the erroneous 
impression that the band was very much larger than it 
was. In fact, there were supposed to be several hundred 
warriors, and this reckoned greatly in their favor. The 
bold daring front that they assumed was another big 
thing in their favor, and made the troops and others 
believe there were many more of them than there were. 
When they were confronted with the troops on Sand 
Creek, they stopped in the bluffs and fortified, while 
the troops camped in the bottom to watch their move- 
ments and hold them in check. But the cowboys said 
that the Indians only stopped a short time, and, when 
night came, they broke camp and left the troops behind. 
The soldiers did not find this out for nearly two days, 
and, in this maneuver, they had nearly two days the 
start of the soldiers. 

The Indians, next day, trailed by Belle Meade, a 
little settlement, where they were given a fine beef just 
killed. Strange to say, they disturbed no one here, except 
taking what arms they could find and some more 
"chuck." Up to this time, they had killed only two or 
three people. Starting off, they saw a citizen of Belle 
Meade, driving a span of mules and wagon, coming home. 

— 131 — 



They killed him and took his mules and harness, after 
scalping him. This was done in sight of the town. A 
few miles further on, they espied another wagon, and, 
after chasing it within ten miles of Dodge, the driver 
was killed and his mules and harness taken ; and so on. 
They raided within a few miles of Dodge. Twelve were 
seen four miles west of Dodge, on an island, where they 
plundered and burned a squatter's house. The Dodge 
people had sent out and brought every one in for miles 
around, which is the reason, I suppose, the Indians did 
not kill more people close to Dodge. 

I here quote largely from an enlisted man, stationed 
at Fort Supply, more than a month after this Indian raid 
through Kansas and Nebraska was over, so he had time 
to look calmly over the situation, and the excitement had 
died down. As his views and mine are so nearly alike, 
I give the most of his version. He says: 

"Field-marshal Dull Knife outgeneraling the grand 
pacha of the United States army, and reaching, in safety, 
the goal of his anticipations, being, it is said, snugly 
ensconced among his old familiar haunts in Wyoming and 
Dakota. Without casting the least reflection upon or 
detracting a single thing from the ability, loyalty, or 
bravery of our little army, it must be said, that the 
escape of Dull KJiife and his followers, from the Cheyenne 
Agency, and their ultimate success in reaching Dakota 
territory, is certainly a very remarkable occurrence in 
the annals of military movements. I have no definite 
means of giving the exact number of Dull Knife's force, 
but, from the most reliable information, it did not exceed 
one hundred warriors (this is about Agent Mile's esti- 
mate). Dull Kjiife's movements, immediately after he 
left the reservation, were not unknown to the military 
authorities. He was pursued and overtaken by two com- 
panies of cavalry, within sixty miles of the agency he 
had left. He there gave battle, killing three soldiers, 

— 132-^ 



wounding as many more, and, if reports of eye witnesses 
are to be believed, striking terror into the hearts of the 
remainder, completely routing them. All the heads of 
the military in the Department of the Missouri were 
immediately informed of the situation, and yet, Dull 
Ejiife passed speedily on, passing in close proximity to 
several military posts, and actually marching a portion 
of the route along the public highway, the old Santa Fe 
trail, robbing emigrant trains, mui'dering defenseless 
men, women, and children as their fancy seemed to dic- 
tate, and, at last, arriving at their destination unscathed, 
and is, no doubt, ere this, in conference with his friend 
and ally. Sitting Bull, as to the most practicable manner 
of subjugating the Black Hills. 

"While we look the matter squarel}^ in the face, it 
must be conceeded that Dull Knife has achieved one of 
the most extraordinary coup d'etat of modern times, 
and has made a march before which even Sherman's 
march to the sea pales. With a force of a hundred men, 
this untutored but wily savage encounters and defeats, 
eludes, baffles, and outgenerals ten times his number of 
American soldiers. At one time during his march, there 
were no less than twenty-four companies of cavalry and 
infantry in the field against him, and he marched a dis- 
tance of a thousand miles, almost unmolested. Of course, 
most of the country he passed through was sparsely 
settled, but, with the number of military posts, (six), 
lying almost directly in his path, and the great number 
of cattle men, cowboys, freighters, etc., scattered over 
the plains, that came in contact with his band, it does 
seem strange that he slipped through the schemes and 
plans that were so well laid to entrap him. However, 
Dull Knife has thoroughly demonstrated the fact that a 
hundred desperate warriors can raid successfully through 
a thousand miles of territory, lying partly in Dakota, 
Nebraska, Kansas, and the Indian Territory, steal stock, 
and perpetrate outrages too vile and horrible to print; 

— 133 — 



and this in the face of ten times their number of well 
equipped United States troops. That some one is highly 
reprehensible in the matter of not capturing or annihilat- 
ing Dull Ejiife and his entire band is believed by all, but 
who the culpable party is will probably never be placed 
on the pages of history. 

''The cause that led to the outbreak is the same old 
story — goaded into desperartion by starvation at the 
hands of the Indian agents. There are no buffalo any- 
where near the agency, and this same band were allowed, 
last fall and winter, to go from their reservation to hunt, 
to supply themselves with meat. They did not find a 
single buffalo. A portion of them killed and ate their 
ponies, and the remainder feasted on their dogs. An 
Indian never eats his dog except when served up on state 
occasions, and their puppies are considered a great 
delicacy. They only feed these to their distinguished 
guests, at great night feasts. They consider they are 
doing you a great honor when they prepare a feast of 
this kind for you, and they are badly hurt and mortified 
if you do not partake freely of same. Dull Knife 
appealed so persistently for aid, the commanding officer 
ordered a few rations to be given them (which military 
establishments have no authority to do). These were 
eagerly accepted and greedily devoured. 

''After soldiering, as a private, ten years on the 
plains, I am convinced that a majority of the Indian 
raids have been caused by the vacillating policy of the 
government, coupled with the avaricious, and dishonest 
agents. I do not pretend to hold the Indian up as an 
object of sympathy. On the contrary, I think they are 
treacherous, deceitful, black hearted, murdering villians. 
But we should deal fair with them and set them an 
example for truthfulness and honesty, instead of our 
agents, and others in authority, being allowed to rob 
them. Two wrongs never made a right, and no matter 

— 134 — 




A. J. AXTIIONY 

One of the Seven Old Timers of Dodge City 



what wrongs they have committed, we should live strictly 
up to our promises with them." 

I will give only a brief account of this raid through 
our state, from my own memory. I was on my way to 
Boston to sell a lot of buffalo robes we had stored there. 
At Kansas City I received a telegram from my firm, say- 
ing, ''Indians are out; coming this way; big Indian war 
expected." I returned to Dodge at once, found every- 
thing in turmoil, and big excitement. After getting the 
news and advice from Colonel Lewis, commander of Fort 
Dodge (who was well posted, up to that time, in regard 
to the whereabouts of these Indians, though he had no 
idea of their number, supposing them to be a great many 
more than there were), William Tighlman, Joshua Webb, 
A. J. Anthony, and myself started southwest, thinking to 
overtake and join the troops already in the field. We 
made fifty miles that day, when we met a lot of farmers 
coming back. They said the Indians made a stand against 
the soldiers, in the bluffs on Sand Creek. The soldiers 
camped a short distance down the creek, for two days, 
when they made a reconnaissance and found the Indians 
had been gone for nearly two days, while the troops 
thought they were still there and were afraid to move 
out. But it seems the Indians broke camp the first night, 
and were nearly two days' march ahead of the troops, 
Captain Randebrook in command, trailing on behind 
them. 

Before our little company started, Colonel Lewis 
requested me to report to him immediately upon our 
return, which I did. When he heard the story of the 
cowboys and settlers who were on Sand Creek with the 
troops, and how cowardly the officers had acted in letting 
the Indians escape them when there was such a fine 
opportunity to capture them. Colonel Lewis was utterly 
disgusted. I never saw a more disgusted man. He didn't 
swear, but he thought pretty hard, and he said : "Wright, 

— 135 — 



I am going to take the field myself and at once, and, on 
my return, you will hear a different story." Poor fel- 
low! He never returned. The troops just trailed on 
behind the Indians, when they crossed the Arkansas, and 
followed on, a short distance behind them, until Colonel 
Lewis joined them and took command. 

And now I'll tell the story, as told to me, about the 
killing of Colonel Lewis, as gallant an officer as ever 
wore a sword. The troops, with Colonel Lewis in com- 
mand, overtook the Indians this side of White Woman 
creek, and pressed them so closely they had to concen- 
trate and make a stand. Lewis did the same. Late in 
the afternoon, he made every arrangement to attack their 
camp at daybreak next morning, having posted the troops 
and surrounded the Indians as near as possible. Colonel 
Lewis attended to every little detail, to make the attack 
next morning a success, and they were to attack from all 
sides at the same time, at a given signal. About the last 
thing he did, before going to headquarters for the night, 
he visited one of the furthest outposts, where a single 
guard was concealed. Colonel Lewis had to crawl to 
get to him. The guard said the Colonel was anxious to 
shoot an Indian who was on post and very saucy. The 
guard said, "Colonel, you must not raise up. These out- 
posts and sharp shooters are just waiting for us to expose 
ourselves, and that fellow is acting as a blind, for others 
to get a chance at us." But the Colonel persisted. He 
said he wanted to stir them up ; and, just as he rose up, 
before he got his gun to his shoulder, he was shot down. 
They had to crawl to Colonel Lewis and drag him out on 
their hands and knees. The surgeon in charge knew he 
would die, and started with him at once for Fort Wallace, 
but he died before reaching that post. This happened 
about dark, and the news soon spread throughout the 
camp — Colonel Lewis was killed — which had a great 
demoralizing effect upon the troops, as they knew he was 
a brave man and liked him and had great confidence in 

— 136 — 



his ability. His orders were never carried out, arid the 
attack was not made. The Indians broke camp and 
marched away next morning, but, from the signs they 
left behind, it was very evident they would not have made 
much of a fight. Indeed, I have been told there was a 
flag of truce found in their camp. This was vouched for 
by several, and there were evidences that they intended 
to surrender, and it is the opinion of the writer they 
intended to surrender. Anyhow, I do think, if Colonel 
Lewis had lived, they would have been so badly whipped 
they never would have got any further north, and the 
lives of all those people, who were killed on the Sappa 
and after the}" crossed the Missouri, Pacific railroad, 
would have been saved. I think they killed about forty 
people, after they left White Woman creek. The farmers 
and citizens, who were along with the soldiers, censure 
the two cavalry captains severely and claim they acted 
cowardly, several times and at several places. They, I 
believe, were both tried for cowardice, but were acquitted 
after a fair trial. 

Our citizens of Dodge City, as well as his brother 
officers and the enlisted men under his command, held 
Colonel Lewis in great respect, as the following resolu- 
tions, presented by the enlisted men, assembled in a meet- 
ing for the purpose, at the time of his death, will show: 

''Whereas, the sad news has been brought to us of 
the death, on the field of battle against hostile Indians, 
of our late commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Wil- 
liam H. Lewis, Nineteenth United States infantry; 

''Be it resolved, that his death is felt as a great 
calamity to the army of the United States, as well as for 
his family, to whom we tender our most heartfelt sym- 
pathy, and that we deplore, in his demise the loss of one 
of the kindest, bravest, and most impartial commanders 
to be found in the service ; 

— 137 — 



**Aiid be it further resolved, that these resolutions 
be published in the 'Army and Navy Journal,' the Wash- 
ington and Leavenworth papers, the 'Ford County Globe,' 
and the 'Dodge City Times,' and a copy be sent to his 
relatives. 

''THOMAS G. DENNEN, 

*' Ordnance Sergeant, President, 
''LOUIS PAULY, 
"Hospital Steward, Secretary." 

The meeting then adjourned. 

The old servant, who had been with Colonel Lewis 
for many years and was greatly attached to him, could 
not be comforted after his master's death. He wept 
and mourned as if he had lost a near relative. After 
the Colonel had received his mortal wound and knew 
that he must die, he instructed his attendants to tell the 
old servant to go to his mother's, where he would find a 
home for the balance of his days. Accordingly, after all 
the business at Fort Dodge had been settled, he started, 
with a heavy heart, for his new home. He said he knew 
he would have a nice hime in which to spend his last 
days, but that would not bring his old master back. 
There is nothing that speaks plainer of the true man, 
than the disinterested devotion of his servants. 

Long years afterwards, when the veterans of the 
Civil War, living at Fort Dodge, organized a post of the 
Grand Army of the Republic, they named it the Lewis 
Post, in honor of the brave but unfortunate Colonel. 

Referring again to the subject of General Miles' 
opinion that Fort Dodge should have been at least a ten- 
company post, it might be added that the General, with 
that very purpose in mind, visited the fort, several years 
after its abandonment. I was living there at the time, 
being appointed by the government to take charge of the 
property left there, and see to the care of the buildings. 

— 138 — 



I drove him down, and he took lunch with me. He said : 
''"Wright, your Dodge people made a big mistake when 
you placed your small-pox patients in the old hospital." 
You see, Dodge City was visited once with small-pox, and 
it raged pretty strongly. A great many of our people 
took it, and it was so violent and virulent that it carried 
off not a few. Mayor Webster seized the old military 
hospital and had the patients quarantined in it. 

The General further said : ' ' I see Port Dodge 's great 
military importance, and I would like to garrison it to 
its full capacity and would do so ; but, Wright, you know, 
if a single soldier died there from small-pox, even years 
from now, the press of the country would get up and 
howl, and censure me ever so severely for subjecting the 
army to this terrible disease. I can't afford to take such 
chances." General Miles was right; this is just what 
would have been done, if the small-pox had ever broken 
out. 



— 139 — 



CHAPTER VII 

The Beginnings of Dodge City- 
It has already been said that Dodge 'City was estab- 
lished in 1872, upon the advent of the Atchison, Topeka 
& Santa Fe railroad. Dodge was in the very heart of the 
buffalo country. Hardly had the railroad reached there, 
long before a depot could be built (they had an office 
in a box car), business began; and such a business! 
Dozens of cars a day were loaded with hides and meat, 
and dozens of car-loads of grain, flour, and provisions 
arrived each day. The streets of Dodge were lined with 
wagons, bringing in hides and meat and getting supplies 
from early morning to late at night. 

Charles Rath & Company ordered from Long 
Brothers, of Kansas City, two hundred cases of baking- 
powder at one order. They went to Colonel W. F. Askew, 
to whom we were shipping immense quantities of hides, 
and said: ''These men must be crazy, or else they mean 
two hundred boxes instead of cases." They said there 
were not two hundred cases in the city. Askew wired us 
if we had not made a mistake. We answered, ''No; 
double the order." Askew was out a short time after 
that and saw six or eight car-loads of flour stacked up 
in the warehouse. He said he now understood. It was to 
bake this flour up into bread. 

I have been to several mining camps where rich 
strikes had been made, but I never saw any town to equal 
Dodge. A good hunter would make a hundred dollars a 
day. Everyone had money to throw at the birds. There 
was no article less than a quarter — a drink was a quarter, 
a shave was a quarter, a paper of pins a quarter, and 
needles the same. In fact, that was the smallest change. 

— 140 — 



Governor St. John was in Dodge once, when he was 
notified that a terrible cyclone had visited a little town 
close to the Kansas line, in Nebraska. In two hours I 
raised one thousand dollars, which he wired them. Oar 
first calaboose in Dodge City was a well fifteen feet deep, 
into which the drunkards were let down and allowed to 
remain until they were sober. Sometimes there were 
several in it at once. It served the purpose well for a 
time. 

Of course everyone has heard of wicked Dodge ; but 
a great deal has been said and written about it that is 
not true. Its good side has never been told, and I cannot 
give it space here. Many reckless, bad men came to 
Dodge and many brave men. These had to be met by 
officers equally brave and reckless. As the old saying 
goes, "You must fight the devil with fire." The officers 
gave them the south side of the railroad-track, but the 
north side must be kept respectable, and it was. There 
never was any such thing as shooting at plug hats. On 
the contrary, every stranger that came to Dodge City and 
behaved himself was treated with politeness; but woe 
be unto the man who came seeking a fight. He was soon 
accommodated in any way, shape, or form that he wished. 
Often have I seen chivalry extended to ladies on the 
streets, from these rough men, that would have done 
credit to the knights of old. When some man a little 
drunk, and perhaps unintentionally, would jostle a lady 
in a crowd, he was soon brought to his senses by being 
knocked down by one of his companions, who remarked, 
^' Never let me see you insult a lady again." 

In fact, the chivalry of Dodge toward the fair sex 
and strangers w^as proverbial. Never in the history of 
Dodge was a stranger mistreated, but, on the contrary, 
the utmost courtesy was always and under all circum- 
stances extended to him, and never was there a frontier 
town whose liberality exceeded that of Dodge. But, while 

— 141 — 



women, children, and strangers were never^ anywhere, 
treated with more courtesy and respect ; while such things 
as shooting up plug hats and making strangers dance is 
all bosh and moonshine, and one attempting such would 
have been promptly called down; let me tell you one 
thing — none of Dodge's well known residents would have 
been so rash as to dare to wear a plug hat through the 
[Streets, or put on any ''dog," such as wearing a swallow- 
tail or evening dress, or any such thing. 

The general reputation of young Dodge City is well 
described in an article entitled, ''Reminiscences' of 
Dodge," written in 1877, and expressing what a stranger 
has to say about the town. The article runs as follows : 

"By virtue of the falling off in the cattle drive to 
Kansas for this year, and the large number of cattle 
driven under contract, Dodge City became the principal 
depot for the sale of surplus stock; buyers met drovers 
at this point, purchased and received purchases without 
unnecessary delay, thereby greatly facilitating business 
and enabling quick returns of both owners and hands. In 
the future, situated as it is upon one of the best railroads 
traversing the country from east to west, the Atchison, 
Topeka & Santa Fe, it will probably occupy an enviable 
position as a cattle market. 

"Dodge has many characteristics which prevent its 
being classed as a town of strictly moral ideas and prin- 
ciples, notwithstanding it is supplied with a church, court- 
house, and jail. Other institutions counterbalance the 
good works supposed to emanate from the first men- 
tioned. Like all frontier towns of this modern day, fast 
men and fast women are around by the score, seeking 
whom they may devour, hunting for a soft snap, taking 
him in for cash, and many is the Texas cowboy who can 
testify as to their ability to follow up successfully the 
calling they have embraced in quest of money. 

— 142 — 



I 



** Gambling ranges from a game of five-cent chuck-a- 
luck to a thousand dollar poker pot. Nothing is secret, 
but with open doors upon the main streets, the ball rolls 
on uninterruptedly. More than occasionally some dark- 
eyed virago or some brazen-faced blonde, with a modern 
sundown, will saunter in among the roughs of the 
gambling houses and saloons, entering with inexplicable 
zest into the disgusting sport, breathing the immoral 
atmosphere with a gusto which I defy modern writers to 
explain. Dance houses are ranged along the convenient 
distances and supplied with all the trappings and para- 
phernalia which go to complete institutions of that char- 
acter. Here you see the greatest abandon. Men of every 
grade assemble to join in the dance. Nice men with white 
neckties, the cattle dealer with his good clothes, the sport 
with his well turned fingers, smooth tongue, and artisti- 
cally twisted mustache, and last but not least the cowboy, 
booted and spurred as he comes from the trail, his hard 
earnings in his pocket, all join in the wild revel; and yet 
with all this mixture of strange human nature a remark- 
able degree of order is preserved. Arms are not allowed 
to be worn, and any noisy whisky demonstrations are 
promptly checked by incarceration in the lock-up. Even 
the mayor of the city indulges in the giddy dance with 
the girls, and with his cigar in one corner of his mouth 
and his hat tilted to one side, he makes a charming 
looking officer. 

''Some things occur in Dodge that the world never 
knows of. Probably it is best so. Other things occur that 
leak out by degrees, notwithstanding the use of hush- 
money. That, too, is perhaps the best. Men learn by such 
means. 

''Most places are satisfied with one abode of the dead. 
In the grave there is no distinction. The rich are known 
from the poor only by their tombstones, so the sods that 
are upon the grave fail to reflect the characters buried 
beneath them. And yet Dodge boasts of two burying 

— 143 — 



spots, one for the tainted whose very souls were steeped 
in immorality, and who have generally died with their 
boots on. 'Boot Hill' is the somewhat singular title 
applied to the burial place of the class just mentioned. 
The other is not designated by any particular title but it 
is supposed to contain the bodies of those who died with 
a clean sheet on their beds — the soul in this case is a 
se condary consideration. ' ' 

So much for one view of Dodge City, but, though 
common, this view was not quite universal. Sometimes 
a writer appeared who could recognize a few slightly 
better features in the border town, and who could look 
beyond its existing lawlessness and see the possibilities 
and beginnings of a higher state of things. In proof of 
this I'll quote an article, written in 1878, a year later 
than the last, and entiled, 'The Beautiful, Bibulous 
Babylon ot the Frontier:'' 

"Standing out on the extreme border of civilization, 
like an oasis in the desert, or like a light-house off a 
rocky coast, is 'The Beautiful, Bibulous Babylon of the 
Frontier,' Dodge City, so termed by Lewis, editor of the 
'Kingsley Graphic' Dodge City is far famed, not for 
its virtues, but for its wickedness; the glaring phases of 
its vices stand pre-eminent, and attract the attention of 
the visitor ; and these shadows of Babylon are reproduced 
in the gossip's corner and — in the press. It is seldom the 
picture has fine embellishments ; but the pen artist of the 
'Graphic' put the finer touches of nature to the pen por- 
trait of Dodge — 'she is no worse than Chicago.' This, 
we admit, is a slight leverage in the social scale, to be 
placed in the catagory of Chicago's wickedness. 

"Dodge City has magnetic attractions. Few people 
are attracted here by curiosity; every one has business, 
except the tramps, and they have no business here. But 
our visitors see it all before they leave, and they use the 
same circumspection here they would under their own 

— 144 — 




Andy John son 
One of the Seven Old Timers of Dodge City 



vine and fig tree. Many of them are not charitable 
enough to tell the unvarnished truth. In vain boast and 
idle glory they recount the pilgrimage to Dodge as though 
they passed through blood, rapine, and war — fully 
attested their courage. 

''But the 'Kingsley Graphic' pays the 'Bibulous 
Babylon' a high compliment, besides raising the moral 
standard of Dodge to that of the immaculate virtue of 
Chicago. 

"Kansas has but one Dodge City. With a broad 
expanse of territory sufficiently vast for an empire, we 
have only room for one Dodge City. Without particular- 
izing at length, we were most favorably impressed gener- 
ally during a brief visit at our neighboring city Tuesday. 
Beautiful for situation, cozily nestled on the 'beach' of 
the turbid Arkansas, while on the north the palisades rise 
above the busy little city, which in the near future will 
be ornamented with cozy cottages, modern mansions, and 
happy homes. The view from the elegant brick court 
house, situated above the town, is grand. The panorama 
spread out west, south, and east, takes in a vast scope of 
valley scenery such as only can be found fringing our 
river. Seventy-five thousand head of cattle, recently 
driven in from the ranges south, can be seen lazily feed- 
ing on the nutritious native meadows, while the cowboys 
gallop here and there among these vast herds, displaying 
superior horsemanship. Five miles down the river, the 
old flag floats proudly over the garrison at the military 
post. 

"The city proper is a busy beehive of bustle and busi- 
ness, a conglomerated aggregation of every line of business 
alternating with saloons. Francis Murphy don't live in 
Dodge. There are a few institutions of which Dodgeites 
are justly proud — the ever popular Dodge House, 'The 
Times,' the court house, the fire company, Mayor Kelley's 
hounds, and the 'Varieties.' Much ha-: been said of the 

— 1-15 — 



wickedness and unrighteousness of the city. If *old 
Probe' should send a shower of fire and brimstone up 
there, we would not vouch for there being a sufficient 
number of righteous citizens to save the city; yet with 
all her wickedness, she is no worse today than Chicago 
and many other cities where the music of the chimes are 
dail}^ heard. There is but one difference, however, which 
is a frontier characteristic ; our neighbors do not pretend 
to hide their peculiarities. A few years hence Dodge City 
will be a model of morality and a city of no mean 
importance. 

''For courtesies shown us we acknowledge our obli- 
gations to Messrs. Kline & Shine of the lively 'Times,' 
Judge Gryden (who deserves to be known as Prince 
Harry, and whose only fault is his rock-footed Democ- 
racy), Mayor Kelley, Hon. H. M. Sutton, the popular 
county attorney, E. F. Colburn, the modest city attorney, 
Samuel Marshal, the portly judge, Fringer, the post- 
master, Hon. R. M. Wright, Dr. McCarty, Sheriff Mas- 
terson and his efficient lieutenant City Marshal Basset, 
and our old friends at the signal office." 

Again, under the heading, "The Wickedest City in 
America," the "Kokomo, Indiana, Dispatch," of an issue 
in July, 1878, refers to Dodge: "Its character as a hell, 
out on the great plains, will be," said a local writer, 
"maintained in the minds of traveling newspaper writers, 
j:ist so long as the city shall remain a rendezvous for the 
broad and immense uninhabited plains, by narrating the 
wildest and wickedest phases of Dodge City; but we 
have to commend them for complimenting Dodge on its 
orderly character." The "Dispatch" speaks very highly 
of Dodge as a commercial point, and his letter bears many 
complimentary features. We extract the following: 

" 'My experience in Dodge was a surprise all around. 
I found nothing as I pictured it in my mind. I had 
expected, from the descriptions I had read of it, to find 

— 146 — 



it a perfect bedlam, a sort of Hogathian Gin Alley, where 
rum ran down the street gutters and loud profanity and 
vile stenches contended for the mastery of the atmos- 
phere. On the contrary, I was happily surprised to find 
the place in the daytime as quiet and orderly as a 
countr}^ village in Indiana, and at night the traffic in 
the wares of the fickle Goddess and human souls was 
conducted with a system so orderly and quiet as to 
actually be painful to behold. It is a most difficult task, 
I confess, to write up Dodge City in a manner to do 
impartial fairness to every interest ; the place has many 
redeeming points, a few of which I have already men- 
tioned. It is not nearly so awful a place as reports make 
it. It is not true that the stranger in the place runs 
a risk of being shot down in cold blood, for no offense 
whatever. ' ' 

In the year, 1878, the "Topeka Times" says, in a 
certain issue : 

''During the year of 1873 we roughed it in the West. 
Our first stopping place was the famous Dodge City, 
at the time a perfect paradise for gamblers, cut-throats, 
and girls. On our first visit the buildings in the town 
were not buildings, with one or two exceptions, but tents 
and dugouts. Everyone in town, nearly, sold whisky or 
kept a restaurant, perhaps both. The Atchison, Topeka 
& Santa Fe railroad was just then working its way up 
the low banked Arkansas, and Dodge w^as the frontier 
town. Its growth was rapid, in a month from the time 
the railroad was completed to its borders, the place began 
to look like a city; frame houses, one story high, sprang 
up; Dodge became noted as the headquarters for the 
buffalo hunters, and the old town was one of the busiest 
of trading points, and they were a jolly set of boys there. 
They carried a pair of Colt's revolvers in their belts, wore 
their pants in their boots, and when they died, did so 
generally with their boots on. It wasn't safe, in those 

— 147 — 



times, to call a man a liar or intimate that his reputation 
for honesty was none of the best, unless you were spoiling 
for a. fight. In those days, 'Boot Hill' was founded, and 
the way it grew was astonishing to new comers and 
terrifying to tenderfeet. We well remember, but now 
forget the date, when a party of eastern capitalists came 
out to look around with a view to locating. They were 
from Boston and wore diamonds and kid gloves. The 
music at one of the dance halls enticed the bald headed 
sinners thither, and what with wine and women, they 
became exceedingly gay. But in the midst of their sport 
a shot was fired, and another, and, in a little time, the 
room gleamed with flashing pistols and angry eyes. This 
was enough, and the eastern capitalists hurried to the 
depot, where they remained until the first train bore 
them to the classic shades of Boston. But with all its 
wildness, Dodge could then, as it does yet, boast of 
some of the best, freest, and whitest boys in the country. 
We were down there again last week, and were sur- 
prised in the change in the city. It has built up wonder- 
fully, has a fine court house, church, good schools, large 
business blocks, a good hall, first-class hotels, and two 
live newspapers. The editor of the 'Times' was not in, 
but we saw Honorable D. M. Frost, the editor of the 
'Globe.' Dodge is coming out and is destined to be a 
city of considerable size." 

Another writer of the times, defending Dodge City, 
says : 

"There is an evident purpose to malign and create 
false impressions concerning the character of Dodge City. 
It is a pretty general impression that a person here is 
insecure in life, and that the citizens of Dodge are walk- 
ing howitzers. This is a bad impression that should, by 
all means, be corrected. Having but a short residence 
in this town, it is our deliberate opinion, from a careful 
observation, that Dodge is as quiet and orderly as any 
town of its size in Kansas. We have been treated with 

— 148 — 



the utmost cordialit3\ We have observed officers prompt 
and efficient, in the discharge of their duties. There is 
an ordinance prohibiting the carrying of fire arms, 
which is rigidly enforced. The citizens are cordial, 
industrious, and display a business alacrity, characteristic 
of the frontier tradesman. We are surprised to note the 
difference of character of this town and the impression 
aimed to be made upon us before coming here. There is 
a lurking jealousy somewhere, that gives rise to false 
rumors, and we trust every citizen of Dodge City will 
correct these false impressions, as far as lies in his 
power. This, alone, would efface bad impressions and 
false rumors, but forbearance ceases to be a virtue, and 
we kindly protest." 

Again, the character of early Dodge was defended 
by Charles D. Ulmer, of the ''Sterling Bulletin," thus: 

''On Friday, the party visited Dodge City, the rip- 
roaring burg of the West. As we glided into the depot, 
we looked anxiously along the street, expecting to see 
many squads of festive cowboys, rigged out with arms 
enough to equip a regiment, and ready to pop a shot at 
any plug hat that might be in the crowd, but nothing 
of the kind was to be observed ; instead, there was a busy, 
hustling little city, like many others in Kansas, with, 
perhaps, a few extra saloons thrown in for variety. 
Dodge City was a surprise to us. It is beautifully 
located — the residence portion on the hills which com- 
mand a magnificent view of the country, east, west, and 
south. The business portion is on the level bottom at the 
foot of the hills. The railroad track is a little close to 
the main business street for convenience. 

"The party, on landing, instead of being received 
by a howling lot of cowboys, with six-shooters and Win- 
chester rifles rampant, were received by a delegation of 
as gentlemanly and courteous men as can be found in 
the state. During our stay in Dodge, we had the pleasure 

— 149 — 



of meeting most of the men who have been so prominently 
mentioned in the late trouble at that place. Instead of 
low-browed ruffians and cut-throats, we found them to 
be cultivated gentlemen, but evidently possessing plenty 
of nerve for any emergency. Among those we met and 
conversed with was Luke Short, his partner, Mr. Harris, 
who is vice-president of the Dodge City bank, and Mr. 
Webster. The late trouble originated in differences 
between Messrs. Short and Webstel*, and, we believe, after 
both sides get together it could and should have been 
settled without the hubbub made, and interference of the 
state authorities. Mr. Short, Mr. Harris, and others assur- 
ed us that their side, at all times, was ready and willing to 
submit their differences to the decision of the courts. 
The trouble has been amicably adjusted, and no further 
trouble is anticipated on the old score." 

But, as has already been stated, often only the worst 
side of Dodge City was written up, in a way to make the 
most of it. In protest against this practice, a local writer 
of earl}^ times refers to a write-up of the sort, in this 
wise: 

"A verdant editor of the 'Hays City Sentinel' visits 
our brothels and bagnios. From the tone of his article, 
he must have gone too deep into the dark recesses of 
the lascivious things he speaks of, and went away in the 
condition of the monkey who got his tail too near the 
coals. He says: 'After a long day's ride in the scorch- 
ing sun, I arrived in Dodge City. Dodge is the Dead- 
wood of Kansas. Her incorporate limits are the rendez- 
vous of all the unemployed scallawagism in seven states. 
Her principal business is pol3'gamy without the sanction 
of religion, her code of morals is the honor of thieves, and 
decency she knows not. In short, she is an exaggerated 
frontier town, and all her consistences are operated on 
the same principle. Her every day occurrences are such 
as would make the face of a Haysite, accustomed as he 
is to similar sights, color to the roots of his hair and 

— 150 — 




00 



5 



draw away disgusted. Dodge is a fast town and all of 
her speedy proclivities exhibit to the best advantage. 
The employment of many citizens is gambling. Her vir- 
tue is prostitution and her beverage is whisky. She is 
a merry town and the only visible means of support of a 
great many of her citizens is jocularity. Her rowdyism 
iias taken a most aggravated form, and was it not for 
Ihe most stringent ordinances (some of which are uncon- 
stitutional), and a fair attempt to enforce them, the 
lown would be suddenly depopulated and very much in 
the manner that Ireland got rid of her snakes. Seven- 
teen saloons furnish inspiration and many people become 
inspired, not to say drunk. Every facility is afforded 
for the exercise of conviviality, and no restriction is 
placed on licentiousness. The town is full of prostitutes 
and every other place is a brothel. Dodge by day and 
Dodge by night are different towns;" and, then he goes 
on with more abuse too vile and untruthful to mention. 
Our brother from Hays City must indeed have been 
hard hit, but must not have visited any good spot in 
Dodge City, but, on the contrary, must have confined 
himself entirely to the very lowest places and worst 
society in Dodge. Birds of a feather, you know, will 
flock together. We hope his dose was a mild one— - 
though he does not deserve our sympathy. 

Besides this generally sensational mode of writing 
up the town. Dodge City was the theme of many lurid 
stories and sulphurous jokes which tended, no less than 
the write-ups, to establish her position, in the public eye, 
as the ''Wickedest Town in America." The following 
letter is from the "Washington, D. C, Evening Star," 
January 1st, 1878. 

"Dodge City is a wicked little town. Indeed, its 
character is so clearly and egregiously bad that one might 
conclude, were the evidence in these latter times positive 
of its possibility, that it was marked for special Provi- 

— 151 — 



dential punishment. Here those nomads in regions remote 
from the restraints of moral, civil, social, and law enforc- 
ing life, the Texas cattle drovers, from the very tenden- 
cies of their situation the embodiment of waywardness 
and wantonness, end the journey with their herds, and 
here they loiter and dissipate, sometimes for months 
and share the boughten dalliances of fallen women 
Truly, the more demonstrative portion of humanity at 
Dodge City gives now no hopeful sign of moral improve- 
ment, no bright prospect of human exaltation; but witli 
Dodge City itself, it will not always be as now. The 
hamlet of today, like Wichita and Newton farther east 
in the state, will antagonize with a nobler trait, at some 
future day, its present outlandish condition. The deni- 
zen of little Dodge City declares, with a great deal of 
confidence, that the region around about the place is 
good for nothing for agricultural purposes. He says 
the seasons are too dry, that the country is good for 
nothing but for grazing, and that all they raise around 
Dodge is cattle and hell. The desire of his heart is the 
father of the statement. He is content with just what 
it is, and he wants that to remain. He wants the cattle 
droves and his associations and surroundings to be a 
presence and a heritage forever." 

Referring to this article, the Ford County ''Globe," 
of January 1st, 1878, says : "We think this correspondent 
had a sour stomach when he portrayed the wickedness of 
our city. But we must expect it unless we ourselves try 
to improve the present condition of things. There is not 
a more peaceful, well regulated, and orderly community 
in the western country;" and then, as the office boy 
entered to say that somebody wanted to see him, he 
took his bowie knife between his teeth, put a Colt's new 
pattern six-shooter on his desk in front of him, and then 
said: "Jim, get out another coffin, a plain one this time, 
and let the critter come in." 

— 152 — 



About thirty miles from Dodge the train stopped at 
a little station, and a cowboy got on, very drunk, and 
fully equipped in chapps, spurs, six-shooter, and quirt. 
The conductor, John Bender, asked him his fare and 
destination. He replied, ''I want to go to hell!" Bender 
said, ''All right; give me a dollar and get off at Dodge." 

Thus Dodge City's evil reputation became estab- 
lished, Avhether deserved or undeserved. People living at 
a distance and having no way of knowing where truth 
ended and falsehood began, naturally gave credence to 
all reports they saw published, until, in places remote, 
the very name of Dodge became a synonym for all that 
was wild, reckless, and violent. Strangers, approaching 
the town for the first time, did so with dread, entered it 
with fear and trembling, or passed through it with a sigh 
of relief as its last roof was left behind. Tales of the 
fate of tenderfeet in the border city struck terror to the 
soul of many a new comer in the community, and the 
dangers apprehended by these new arrivals on the 
dreaded scene, were limited only by the amount of cour- 
age, credulity, and imagination they possessed. To illus- 
trate, a young man, going west with a party of movers, 
wrote a card to his father back east, just before reaching 
Dodge City, not mailing it till after passing through. 
Here is what he w^rote while anticipating the entrance 
into the dreaded town : 

"In Camp Fifteen Miles from Dodge, May 7, 1877. 

"Dear Father: — 

"As I've a little time I'll drop you a card, so you 
can see we are all well and headed west. Have laid over 
here to wait for a larger crowd so as to be perfectly safe 
going through Dodge. There are nine teams now and 
will be three more in the morning, so we will be safe 
anyway. There are a good many coming back from 
Colorado but that don't discourage us any. That is no 
sign we can't do well. Everything goes on as nice as 

— 153 — 



clock work among ourselves; not a word as yet and no 
hard feelings. 

"HERBERT." 

In somewhat sarcastic comment upon this postal card, 
the ''Dodge City Times," of May 19th, 1877, says: 

''The card was evidently written while awaiting 
reinforcements to assist in making a charge through our 
city, but not mailed until they had run the gauntlet and 
halted to take breath at a safe distance on the west side. 
To the father and friends who are no doubt anxiously 
waiting to know if our blood-thirsty denizens extermi- 
nated the caravan, we can say that they escaped us with- 
out a serious loss of life." 

What made Dodge City so famous was that it was the 
last of the towns of the last big frontier of the United 
States. When this was settled, the frontier was gone, it 
was the passing of the frontier with the passing of the 
buffalo, and the Indian question was settled forever. 
Here congregated people from the east, people from 
the south, people from the north, and people from the 
west. People of all sorts, sizes, conditions, and nation- 
alities; people of all colors, good, bad, and indifferent, 
congregated here, because it was the big door to so vast a 
frontier. Some came to Dodge City out of curiosity; 
others strictly for business; the stock man came because 
it was a great cattle market, and here, on the Arkansas 
river, was the place appointed for the cattle going 
north to be classed and passed on, for bargains to be 
closed, and new contracts made for next year; the cow- 
boy came because it was his duty as well as delight, and 
here he drew his wages and spent them ; the hunter came 
because it was the very heart of the greatest game coun- 
try on earth ; the freighter came because it was one of the 
greatest overland freight depots in the United States, and 
he hauled material and supplies for nearly four hundred 
miles, supplying three military posts, and all the frontier 

— 154— . 



for that far south and west; last but not least, the 
gambler and the bad man came because of the wealth 
and excitement, for obscene birds will always gather 
around a carcass. 

Money was plentiful and spent lavishly, and here 
let me say, there are different classes of men who are 
producers or money-makers, and misers, up to a certain 
amount. There were numbers of people, to my certain 
knowledge, who would carefully save up from two hun- 
dred to five hundred dollars, and then come to Dodge 
City and turn it loose, never letting up until every dollar 
was gone. There were others whose ambition was higher. 
They would save up from five hundred to two thousand 
dollars, come to Dodge City and spend it all. There were 
still others who would reach out to five thousand dollars 
and upwards, come to Dodge, and away it would all go, 
and, strange to say, these men went back to their differ- 
ent avocations perfectly satisfied. They had started out 
for a good time and had had it, and went back contented. 
Indeed, one man started with twenty thousand dollars 
for New York, struck Dodge City, spent the most of his 
twenty thousand, and went back to begin over again. 
He said: ''Oh, well, I did start to have a good time in 
New York, but I tell you, you can make New York any- 
where if' you only have the money and the luxuries and 
attractions are there." And these all could be had for 
the price, in Dodge City. There were women, dance halls, 
music, saloons and restaurants, equipped with every lux- 
ury, while gambling in every conceivable form, and every 
gambling device known at that time was in full blast. 

I will now say something of the business of early 
Dodge, which has been mentioned as being tremendous. 
At that time we were often asked, ''What sustains your 
city?" "Where does your trade come from?" and many 
such questions, which, no doubt, will recur to the mind 
of the reader, at the present time. First and foremost of 

— 155 — 



our industries was the cattle and stock trade, with its 
buying, selling, and shipping for the whole southwestern 
range, and which lasted till other railroads extended into 
this territory and cut off the trade from Dodge City. 
Then there was the government freight business, with 
Dodge the point of supply to many military posts and 
their garrisons, in the surrounding wilderness. This, 
alone, was heavy traffic, while local and general freight- 
ing, to ranches, inland settlements, and hunters' camps, 
was an important addition to this line of business. Again, 
as Dodge City was the point of supply, in all general 
commodities, for so vast a section of country, the mercan- 
tile business promptly assumed enormous proportions. 

One of Dodge City's great industries was the bone 
trade. It certainly was immense. There were great 
stacks of bones, piled up by the railroad track — hundreds 
of tons of them. It was a sight to see them. They were 
stacked up way above the tops of the box cars, and 
often there were not sufficient cars to move them. Dodge 
excelled in bones, like she did in buffalo hides, for there 
were more than ten times the number of carloads shipped 
out of Dodge, then out of any other town in the state, 
and that is saying a great deal, for there was a vast 
amount shipped from every little town in western Kansas. 

The bones were a godsend to the early settler, for 
they were his main stock in trade for a long, long time; 
and, if it had not been for the bone industry, many poor 
families would have suffered for the very necessaries of 
life. It looked like a wise dispensation of Providence. 
Many poor emigrants and settlers came to Kansas with 
nothing but an old wagon and a worse span of horses, a 
large family of helpless children, and a few dogs — noth- 
ing else. No money, no work of any kind whatever to be 
had, when, by gathering buffalo bones, they could make a 
living or get a start. Game was all killed off and starva- 
tion staring them in the face ; bones were their only sal- 

— 156 — 



vation, and this industry saved them. They gathered and 
piled them up in large piles, during the winter, and 
hauled them to Dodge at times when they had nothing 
else to do, when the^^ always demanded a good price. 
This industry kept us for many years, and gave the settler 
a start, making it possible for him to break the ground 
from which he now raises such large crops of wheat, 
making him rich and happy. Yes, indeed ! Many of our 
rich farmers of today, once were poor bone pickers, but 
if they hear this, it don't go. Certainly, this was a great 
business, as well as a godsend, coming at a time when 
the settlers most needed help. All this added to the 
wealth and prosperity of Dodge, and added to its fame. 
''Buffalo bones are legal tender in Dodge City," was the 
strolling paragraph in all the Kansas exchanges. 

As to the magnitude of the early day mercantile 
business of Dodge City, the writer can speak, at any 
length, from his own experience, as he followed that line, 
there, for many years. As an introduction to the sub- 
ject, I'll give a clipping from the ''Ford County Globe," 
of 1877, entitled, "Wright, Beverly & Company's Texas 
Trade. ' ' Now one of the editors, Mr. Morphy, was a bitter 
enemy of the writer, who was head of the firm of Wright 
& Beverly, because he abused the writer so maliciously and 
scandalously and lied so outrageously about him, when the 
writer was running for the legislature, that the latter 
whipped him on the street; for which, Morphy sued the 
writer for ten thousand dollars. The jury awarded a dam- 
age of four dollars and a half for the plaintiff's doctor's 
bill, and they hung out, for a long time, against giving any- 
thing, until the judge instructed them they must render 
a verdict for that amount, as Mr. Morphy had clearly 
proven that he had paid the doctor four dollars and a 
half, as a result of the whipping; so you can see, he 
would not give the firm any too much praise, in writing 
them up. He says: 

— 157 — 



** Those gentlemen do an immense business and make 
a specialty to cater to the immense Texas trade. The 
jingling spur, the carved ivory-handled Colt, or the suit 
of velveteen, and the many, many other Texas necessaries, 
you here find by the gross or cord. An upstairs room, 
thirty by seventy-five feet, is devoted entirely to clothing 
and saddlery. In their warehouses and yard, it is no 
uncommon thing to find from sixty to eighty thousand 
buffalo robes and hides. This house also does a banking 
business for the accommodation of its customers. Mr. 
John Newton, the portly and benevolent charge de affairs 
of the office, will accommodate you with five dollars or 
five thousand dollars, as the case may be. We generally 
get the former amount. Mr. Samuels, who has special 
charge of the shooting irons and jewelry stock, will enter- 
tain you in Spanish, German, Russian, or Hebrew. The 
assistance of Mr. Isaacson, the clothier, is demanded for 
parrle voiis, while Bob, himself, has to be called on when 
the dusky and dirty 'child of the setting sun' insists 
on spitting and spouting Cheyenne and Arapahoe and 
goes square back on the king's English. They employed 
over a dozen outside men to check off the wagons that 
were loading, and their sales were on an averag.e of a 
thousand dollars a day, Sundays not excepted, or three 
hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, and several 
years it was over four hundred thousand dollars." There 
was no article you could mention we did not handle. 
Our remittances to banks in Leavenworth were frequently 
as high as fifty thousand dollars. This w^as owing to 
stock men depositing their whole pile with us, and draw- 
ing against it as they needed it. We have had parties 
leave with us endorsed, certified checks, as high as fifty 
thousand dollars each, to pay for cattle or close some deal 
for them. Strange to say, there was but little currency 
in circulation, and, notwithstanding the railroad agent 
was instructed to turn over his receipts of greenbacks, 
and take our check for same, we had to have shipped to 

— 158 — 



us, by express, from two thousand dollars to five thou- 
sand dollars in currency every few days. 

The Santa Fe railroad was another great factor in 
making the wealth and splendid prosperity of Dodge City. 
Indeed, it was the first cause of the development of 
Dodge City's greatness. It was this road, you might say, 
that made us. It, at least, gave us a big start. Hundreds 
of its employees made it their home from the very begin- 
ning. Dodge was not only its terminus, for awhile, but 
it always has been the end of a division. The officers of 
the road and the people of the town have always enjoyed 
great harmony. They have treated us justly and kindly, 
favoring us whenever and in whatever way they could, 
and, in return and to show them gratitude, the Dodge 
people have worked right in with them ; and never have 
they been at outs, or has the least thing ever arisen which 
would lessen the friendship between them. Even yet, 
(1913), the railroad company is making great improve- 
ments in buildings, grades, yardage, etc., at Dodge City. 

Another great feature belonging to Dodge City, and 
Avhich brought many people there at an early date, is its 
beautiful, health giving climate and pure air. It was, and 
is, a ^reat resort for invalids afflicted with the white 
plague. This should be the stopping off place for all 
those badly afflicted with this dread disease, as the great 
change in altitude, from lowlands to mountains, is often 
too sudden. I have known many people to stop off here 
until they got accustomed to light air and great altitude, 
and then go on to the mountains, and, in time, be com- 
pletely cured. Others would stop only a short time and 
take the consequences. Others, after a short stay here, 
would feel so much better they would return home, think- 
ing they were cured, and make a grand mistake. A 
lovely lady, the wife of one of Missouri's greatest lawyers, 
stopped off here a short time, and her health improved 
so wonderfully that she went back to Missouri, but we 

— 159 — 



heard of her death a short time afterwards. I have 
known several parties who would receive so great a bene- 
fit from a short stay in Dodge, they would insist, against 
the wishes of their doctor and friends, on going on to the 
mountains, and come back, in a few weeks, in a box, or 
return to die among their eastern friends. You see, they 
did not stay in Dodge long enough to get used to the 
great altitude of the mountains. 

Dodge City was conspicuous in the sight of news- 
paper men, and complimentary notices of its business men 
were often unique. For instance, the "Walnut City 
Blade," says: *'The gentlemen of Dodge City are 
whole-souled fellows and fine business men. Although 
our acquaintance was limited, we can say that Sutton, 
Whitelaw, Winnie, Gryden, Bob Wright, Shinn, Klaine, 
and Frost are each a whole team with a mule colt follow- 
ing." 

As an instance of the splendid liberality of Dodge 
City in times of emergency, as already mentioned, its 
response to Governor St. John's petition for the cj^clone 
sufferers has been given. Another instance, among any 
number that might be given, was the conduct of Dodge 
City toward the yellow fever situation, in Memphis, Ten- 
nessee, in 1878. September 10th, of that year, a mass 
meeting was called for the purpose of alleviating the suf- 
ferers of Memphis from the terrible yellow fever scourge. 
The people only had a few hours' notice of the meeting, 
but, in such short time, two or three hundred gathered. 
A few speeches were made by some of our prominent citi- 
zens, when Mr. P. L. Beaty jumped upon a stand and said : 
**I have been a victim of this yellow fever, and know how 
these people in the South suffer; here's what talks!" at 
the same time throwing a ten dollar bill into the hat, 
amidst wildest enthusiasm. Other speeches followed, 
while contributions flowed into the hat in splendid style, 
the poor bootblack dropping in his nickel, and the rich 

— 160 — 



merchant his ten dollar bill. The total amount collected 
was over three hundred dollars, which was promptly for- 
warded to the Howard Association of Memphis. Instances 
of charity equal to that of Dodge City are as scarce on 
the records as, elsewhere, the rarity of Christian charity 
is plentiful. Hurrah, for little Dodge ! She is still bad 
in war, good in peace, and has a bigger heart, for her 
size, than any town in Kansas. A short time after this 
meeting, it was found that the terrible scourge of yellow 
fever still held Memphis in its grip ; and at another mass 
meeting to relieve the suffering, Dodge City sent more 
than double the former amount. 

This puts me in mind of a little priest, by the name 
of Father Swineberg, who was a little fellow with a big 
heart, with charity for all and malice toward none, no 
matter what the denomination. He was very highly edu- 
cated, could speak fluently more than a half-dozen differ- 
ent languages, and visited Fort Dodge to look after his 
flock and minister to the wants of his people, years before 
Dodge City was established. It was the writer's happy 
luck to be able to accommodate him several times, in 
driving him from one post to another, looking after the 
needs of the church and his ministerial duties, and, in 
that way, the writer and he became warm friends. 

In the course of time, he called on me at the fort, 
armed with letters to the commanding officer of Fort 
Dodge, and instructing said officer to give Father Swine- 
berg all the assistance in his power. His objective point 
was way down in old Mexico, across the borders of that 
unknown region, those days, of New Mexico, Arizona, 
and old Mexico, a distance from Fort Elliott, his starting 
point, of over one thousand miles. It was a desert, en- 
tirely unknown, in those days, without water, wood, or 
habitations, or civilization of any kind. His stock of trade 
was splendid maps of the region he was to traverse, 
encased in an oil-cloth covered tin tube. I, being familiar 
with the terrible dangers and privations he would have 

— 161 — 



to undergo, from lack of food and water, exposure to the 
elements both heat and cold, as well as the terrible storms 
that visited that country, and some big rivers to cross, 
tried to persuade him to desist. I told him it was as 
much as his life was worth — that he must not go. He 
said he had to go. I asked him, why. Shrugging his 
shoulders, like a Frenchman would, he said: "Because 
my bishop ordered me. " 

The commanding officer at Fort Elliott fitted out 
Father Swineberg and another priest, who was to be his 
traveling companion, with two fine horses, what grub 
they could conveniently carry, and blankets. They had 
no arms of any kind or description except knives; they 
said they didn't need any. Remarkable to relate, they 
made the trip, accomplished their object, and came back 
safely. Father Swineberg told me that they enjoyed the 
trip. That once, when they were in one of the greatest 
straits and lost without food or water, they ran into a 
very large band of Indians, who received them kindly, 
and several of the band understood Spanish and some 
understood French. They stayed with the Indians about 
a week, preaching alternately in French and Spanish, 
which a good many of the Indians seemed to understand 
and enjoy and appreciate. 

Now comes my yellow fever episode which reminded 
me of this story. "When the great call was made from the 
South to the North, for aid and nurses to subdue the terri- 
ble scourge. Father Swineberg, with twenty-odd other 
priests, nobly responded, well knowing they were going 
to their death. Very few ever returned, and Father 
Swineberg was among the number that went down. His 
was a noble life. 

There was a society known as "The Orients," in 
Dodge City, with charitable work as its real object, and fun 
as a side line. A few disparaging remarks, made by a 
young blood who desired membership, subjected the indi- 

— 162 — 



vidnal to a "side degree," upon which lavish hands per- 
formed all sorts of excruciating tricks, which were absurd 
and ridiculous. When it came to ridicule, the old-timer 
was not sparing in punishment. 

The greatest excitement ever caused in Dodge was 
the advent of an Indian, one of the principal chiefs of the 
Cheyennes. In the winter of 1872, W. D. Lee, of the 
firm of Lee & Reynolds, doing a large business at Supply 
as freighters, government contractors, sutlers, and Indian 
traders combined, brought this Indian to Dodge City to 
show him the wonders of the railroad and impress upon 
him how civilization was advancing. There happened to 
be several hunters in town at that time, driven in by a 
heavy storm and snow. No sooner did the Indian make 
his appearance on the street than the excitement began. 
Most of the hunters hated an Indian, and not a few of 
them had suffered more or less from their depredations. 
Among the latter was one Kirk Jordan, a very desperate 
man, whose sister, brother-in-law, and whole family had 
been wiped out by the savages, and their home and its 
contents burned and every vestige of stock stolen. This 
had happened in the northwest part of the state. Jordan 
had sworn to kill the first Indian he saw, no matter what 
the consequences might be. He was a leader and a favor- 
ite with the hunters, and, together with his companions, 
being inflated with liquor, had no trouble in getting fol- 
lowers. We ran the Indian into a drug-store and locked 
the doors. There was no egress from the rear, but two 
families occupied houses adjoining the drug-store, and 
someone quickly tore off one of the upright partition 
boards that separated the drug-store from the dwellings 
containing the families, and the Indian squeezed through. 
The board was quickly and neatly replaced, leaving no 
trace of its having been removed; so when the crowd of 
excited hunters burst into the store and could not find 
the Indian, they were as puzzled a lot as ever lost a trail 
upon open prairie. 

— 163 — 



That afternoon I thought things had quieted down, 
and I saddled one of Lee's finest horses (Lee had brought 
up a magnificent team), and led it around to the back 
door — of course the Indian had been previously instructed 
to mount and make for his tribe as fast as the horse would 
carr^^ him; but before I rapped at the door I looked 
around, and from the back of the dance hall, a hundred 
yards distant, there w^ere fifty buffalo guns leveled at me. 
I knew those fellows had nothing against me, but I was 
afraid some of the guns might go off by accident, and 
wished right there that the ground would sink down deep 
enough to cover me from the range of their guns. I led 
the horse back to the stable as quickly and quietly as 
possible, feeling relieved when inside. I at once dis- 
patched a courier to the commander at the fort, with 
the request that he send up a company of cavalry, but 
he wouldn't do it. As soon as it got dark, Lee and I got 
in his carriage, loaded with buffalo-robes, had the Indian 
rushed out, robes piled on top of him, and went out of 
Dodge on the run. We met Captain Tupper's troop of 
the Sixth United States cavalry about a mile out, coming 
after the chief. There were no more Indians seen in 
Dodge except under big escort. 

The following rules were posted in one of the Dodge 
Citj^ hotels for the guidance of guests (some say rules 
were stolen from Mark Twain's hotel). 

HOTEL RULES. 

'* These are the rules and regulations of this hotel. 

"This house will be considered strictly intemperate. 

"None but the brave deserve the fare. 

"Persons owing bills for board will be bored for 
bills. 

"Boarders who do not wish to pay in advance are 
requested to advance the pay. 

"Boarders are requested to w^ait on the colored cook 
for meals. 

— 164 — 



''Sheets will be nightly changed once in six months— 
oftener if necessary. 

''Boarders are expected to pull off their boots if they 

can conveniently do so. 

"Beds with or without bedbugs. 

"All moneys and other valuables are to be left in 
charge of the proprietor. This is insisted upon, as he will 
be held responsible for no losses." 

And now follows an early day market report : 

DODGE CITY MARKETS 

(Corrected weekly by Wright, Beverly & Company). 
Dodge City, Kansas, Jan. 5th, 1878. 

Flour, per 100 lbs $2.50 @ $ 4.00 

Corn Meal, per 100 lbs 2.00 

Oats, per bu -4^ 

Corn, per bu -^^ ^.o. 

Hides, Buffalo, per lb.__- -Of A @ .04% 

Wolf 11 @ ^f^ 

Coyote -30 @ .50 

Skunks -10 @ -50 

Chickens, dressed, per lb .10 

Turkeys, per lb lin 

Potatoes, per bu 1-40 

Apples, dried, per lb -OS (g) -iu 

Peaches, dried, per lb -1^/2 

Bacon, per lb •|2/2 

Hams, per lb f @ \ 

Lard, per lb 12 @ .|4 

Beef, per lb -08 | .10 

Butter, per lb -^^ @ '^^ 

Eggs, per doz -3^ 

Salt, per bbl 4.50 

Coffee, per lb f @ ^f 

Tea, per lb -80 @ l-^j*^ 

Sugar, per lb .12 @ -14 

Coal Oil, per gal -^^ 

Coal, per ton -9.00 @ 10.00 

I give this market report to show the difference 
between then, 1878, and now. 



— 165 — 



The lexicographers of today should credit Dodge 
City with contributions to our language, as certain signifi- 
cations or meanings of three words, now very much used, 
can be traced to our early philologists. The words are 
^'stinker," "stiff," and "joint" These words are not 
considered the sweetest nor most elegant in the language, 
by our institutions of learning nor in the realms of culture „ 
and refinement, yet they are very expressive and are i 
warranted by sufficient use. .^J 

^ The word "stinker," or rather the signification in 
which it is used when applied to a person in a contempt- 
uous way, originated in this way. In the early days of 
this country, the buffalo or bison densely populated the 
plains. The killing of this noble animal for the hide 
was a great industry, and it was nothing uncommon for 
the buffalo hunter to get a stand on a herd and kill scores 
of them in a very short time. Such occurrences were 
sometimes in winter, and, before the hunter could skin 
all the animals, the carcasses would freeze and he would 
be compelled to leave many frozen on the prairies. When 
the weather moderated and the carcasses thawed, new- 
comers or ^^tenderfeet," as we called them, would skin 
them for the hides. Natural causes and decay would 
render such hides very inferior and almost worthless, and, 
as these thrifty beneficiaries of the prowess of the genuine 
buffalo hunter were despised by him, the name "stinker" 
was originated and applied to him, and the word has 
since supplied the vocabulary of many, when their sys- 
tems were surcharged with contempt and hatred. 

The word "stiff," as applied to people in a contempt- 
uous way, originated in Dodge City. The readers of this 
book will gather from this record of the early history of 
Dodge City, the fact that the lifeless remains of people 
were a common sight here, in those days, and veneration 
and respect for the dead was somewhat stinted, unless 
some tie of friendship or relationship existed with the 

— 166 — 




"Bat" Masterson 



departed. As the lifeless body of a human being soon 
becomes rigid, our philologists substituted the easilj 
spoken word ''stiff" for the ghostly word ''corpse," in 
referring to the dead in which they had no special inter- 
est, and, from this, the word received an appropriate 
application to such people as suggest death or worthless- 
ness, or, in other words, "dead ones." 

A very common signification or meaning of the word 
"joint" is easily traced to Dodge City, and I here submit 
my proof. I quote from an edition of the Dodge City 
Times, dated June 2nd, 1877 : 

"Washington, D. C, May 17, 77. 
"Editor Dodge City Times: 

"I trust you will not take this, from its postmark 
outside, as being an appointment to a lucrative official 
position. 

"Such is not the case. I write to the far West seek- 
ing information. I see, at times, in your sprightly paper, 
the use of the term or terms 'go to the joint,' or 'gone 
to the joint,' etc. 

"Will you please inform me what it means? 

"Yours, 

"INQUIRER." 

"We are alwaj^s willing to give the people of Wash- 
ington City any information they may desire on matters 
of public interest. In order that the president and his 
cabinet may get a clear idea of this grave question, we 
will endeavor to be explicit. Gilmore, on municipal elec- 
tions, page 77, says, 'The gang got to the joint in good 
shape.' This is the best authority we have. As an in- 
stance more easily understood by the average Washing- 
tonian, suppose Hayes and Morton should get on a bender 
and put their jewelry in soak for booze, then it would be 
appropriate to say they 'got to the joint' by this means. 

For further particulars, address, 

"L. McGLUE." 

— 167 — 



I remember well the first child born in Dodge. Early 
in the morning, a young doctor came into the only drug 
store in Dodge, with a look of thorough disgust on his 
countenance, saying, ''My God! I did something last 
night that I never thought is possible to fall to my lot, 
and I am so ashamed that I never will again practice in 
Dodge. I delivered an illegitimate child from a notorious 
woman, in a house of prostitution." The druggist and I 
both laughed at him and told him he must not think of 
leaving the profession for such a little thing as that ; he 
must keep right on and fortune Avould sure follow, as it 
was a great field for his profession, and we knew he 
was fully capable ; and so he did, and has become one of 
the most prominent, as well as skillful physicians, not 
only of Dodge City, but the whole state of Kansas. 

This was in the fall of 1872. Soon after, followed 
the birth of Claude, son of Dr. T. L. and Sallie McCarty ; 
and close after him, Jesse R^th was born, son of Charles 
and Carrie Rath, who died in infancy. So Claude 
McCarty can well claim the distinction of being the first 
legitimate child born in the town, and the eldest native. 



— 168 — 



CHAPTER VIII 

Populating Boot Hill 

The first man killed in Dodge City was a big, tall, 
black negro by the name of Tex, and who, though a little 
fresh, was inoffensive. He was killed by a gambler named 
Denver. Mr. Kelly had a raised platform in front of 
his house, and the darkey was standing in front and 
below, in the street, during some excitement. There was 
a crowd gathered, and some shots were fired over the 
heads of the crowds, when this gambler fired at Texas 
and he fell dead. No one knew who fired the shot and 
they all thought it was an accident, but years afterwards 
the gambler bragged about it. Some say it was one of the 
most unprovoked murders ever committed, and that Den- 
ver had not the slightest cause to kill, but did it out of 
pure cussedness, when no one was looking. Others say 
the men had an altercation of some kind, and Denver shot 
him for fear Tex would get the drop on him. Anyhow, 
no one knew who killed him, until Denver bragged about 
it, a long time afterwards, and a long way from Dodge 
City, and said he shot him in the top of the head just to 
see him kick. 

The first big killing was down in Tom Sherman's 
dance hall, some time afterwards, between gamblers and 
soldiers from the fort, in which row, I think, three or four 
were killed and several wounded. One of the wounded 
crawled off into the weeds where he was found next 
day, and, strange to say, he got Avell, although he was 
shot all to pieces. There was not much said about this 
fight, I think because a soldier by the name of Hennessey 
was killed. He was a bad man and the bully of the com- 
pany, and I expect they thought he was a good riddance. 

Before this fight, there was ''a man for breakfast," 
to use a common expression, every once in a while, and 

— 169 — 



this was kept up all through the winter of 1872. It was a 
common occurrence ; in fact, so numerous were the kill- 
ings that it is impossible to remember them all, and I shall 
only note some of them. A man by the name of Brooks, 
acting assistant-marshal, shot Browney, the yard-master, 
through the head — over a girl, of course, by the name of 
Captain Drew. Browney was removed to an old deserted 
room at the Dodge House^ and his girl, Captain Drew, 
waited on him, and indeed she was a faithful nurse. The 
ball entered the back of his head, and one could plainly 
see the brains and bloody matter oozing out of the wound, 
until it mattered over. One of the finest surgeons in the 
United States army attended him. About the second day 
after the shooting, I went with this surgeon to see him. 
He and his girl were both crying; he was crying for 
something to eat; she was crying because she could not 
give it to him. She said: *' Doctor, he wants fat bacon 
and cabbage and potatoes and fat greasy beef, and says 
he's starving." The doctor said to her: ''Oh, well, let 
him have whatever he wants. It is only a question of 
time, and short time, for him on earth, but it is astonishing 
how strong he keeps. You see, the ball is in his head, and 
if I probe for it, it will kill him instantly." Now there 
was no ball in his head. The ball entered one side of his 
head and came out the other, just breaking one of the 
brain or cell pans at the back of his head, and this only 
was broken. The third day and the fourth day he was 
alive, and the fifth day they took him east to a hospital. 
As soon as the old blood and matter was washed off, they 
saw what was the matter, and he soon got well and was 
back at his old job in a few months. 

A hunter by the name of Kirk Jordan, (previously 
mentioned), and Brooks had a shooting scrape, on the 
street. Kirk Jordan had his big buffalo gun and would 
have killed Brooks, but the latter jumped behind a barrel 
of water. The ball, they say, went through the barrel, 

— 170 — 




s 



o >. 



H ^ 



on 



H 



water and all, and came out on the other side, but it had 
lost its force. We hid Brooks under a bed, in a livery 
stable, until night, when I took him to the fort, and he 
made the fort siding next day, and took the train for the 
East. I think these lessons were enough for him, as he 
never came back. Good riddance for everybody. 

These barrels of water were placed along the princi- 
pal streets for protection from fire, but they were big 
protection in several shooting scrapes. These shooting 
scrapes, the first year, ended in the death of twenty-five, 
and perhaps more than double that number wounded. All 
those killed died with their boots on and were buried on 
Boot Hill, but few of the number in coffins, on account 
of the high price of lumber caused by the high freight 
rates. Boot Hill is the highest and about the most promi- 
nent hill in Dodge City, and is near the center of the town. 
It derived its name from the fact that it was the burying 
ground, in early days, of those who died with their boots 
on. There were about thirty persons buried there, all with 
their boots on and without coffins. 

Now, to protect ourselves and property, we were com- 
pelled to organize a Vigilance Committee. Our very best 
citizens promptly enrolled themselves, and, for a while, it 
fulfilled its mission to the letter and acted like a charm, 
and we were congratulating ourselves on our success. The 
committee only had to resort to extreme measures a few 
times, and gave the hard characters warning to leave 
town, which they promptly did. 

But what I was afraid would happen did happen. I 
had pleaded and argued against the organization for this 
reason, namely: hard, bad men kept creeping in and join- 
ing until they outnumbered the men who had joined it for 
the public good— until they greatly outnumbered the 
good members, and when they felt themselves in power, 
they proceeded to use that power to avenge their griev- 
ances and for their own selfish purposes, until it was a 

— 171 — 



farce as well as an outrage on common decency. They got 
so notoriously bad and committed so many crimes,* that 
the good members deserted them, and the people 'arose 
m their might and put a stop to their doings. They had 
gone too far, and saw their mistake after it was too late. 
The last straw was the cold blooded, brutal murder of a 
polite, inoffensive, industrious negro named Taylor, who 
drove a hack between the fort and Dodge City. Whilst 
Taylor was in a store, making purchases, a lot of drunken 
fellows got into his wagon and Avas driving it off. "When 
Taylor ran out and tried to stop them, they say a man, 
by the name of Scotty, shot him, and, after Taylor fell, 
several of them kept pumping lead into him. This created 
a big row, as the negro had been a servant for Colonel 
Richard I. Dodge, commander of the fort, who took up his 
cause and sent some of them to the penitentiary. Scotty 
got away and was never heard of aftenvards. 

When railroads and other companies wanted fighting 
men (or gunmen, as they are now called), to protect their 
interests, they came to Dodge City after them, and here 
they could sure be found. Large sums of money were 
paid out to them, and here they came back to spend it. 
This all added to Dodge's notoriety, and many a bunch of 
gunmen went from Dodge. Besides these men being good 
shots, they did not know what fear was— they had been 
too well trained by experience and hardships. The buf- 
falo hunters lived on the prairie or out in the open, endur- 
ing all kinds of weather, and living on wild game, often 
without bread, and scarcely ever did they have vegetables 
of any description. Strong, black coffee was their drink, 
as water was scarce and hardly ever pure, and they were 
often out for six months without seeing inside of a house. 
The cowboys were about as hardy and wild, as they, too, 
were in the open for months without coming in contact 
with civilization, and when they reached Dodge City, they 
made Rome howl. The freighters were about the 'same 

— 172^ 



kind of animals, perfectly fearless. Most of these men 
were naturally brave, and their manner of living made 
them more so. Indeed, they did not know fear, or any 
such thing as sickness— poorly fed and poorer clad ; but 
they enjoyed good pay for the privations they endured, 
and when these three elements got together, with a few 
drinks of red liquor under their belts, you could reckon 
there was something doing. They feared neither God, 
man, nor the devil, and so reckless they would pit them- 
selves, like Ajax, against lightning, if they ran into it. 

It had always been the cowboy's boast as well as de- 
light to intimidate the officers of every town on the trail, 
run the officers out of town, and run the town themselves, 
shooting up buildings, through doors and windows, and 
even at innocent persons on the street, just for amusement, 
but not so in Dodge. They only tried it a few times, and 
they got such a dose, they never attempted it again. You 
see,* here the cowboys were up against a tougher crowd 
than themselves and equally as brave and reckless, and 
they were the hunters and freighters— "bull-whackers" 
and "mule-skinners," they were called. The good citi- 
zens of Dodge were wise enough to choose officers who 
were equal to the emergency. The high officials of the 
Santa Fe railroad wrote me several times not to choose 
such rough officers— to get nice, gentlemanly, young 
fellows to look after the welfare of Dodge and enforce its 
laws. I promptly answered them back that you must 
fight the devil with fire, and, if we put in a tenderfoot 
for marshal, they would run him out of town. We had to 
put in men who were good shots and would sure go to 
the front when they were called on, and these desperadoes 
knew it. 

The last time the cowboys attempted to run the town, 
they had chosen their time well. Along late in the after- 
noon was the quiet time in Dodge ; the marshal took his 
rest then, for this reason. So the cowboys tanked up 

— 173 — 



pretty well, jumped their horses, and rode recklessly up 
and down Front Street, shooting their guns and firing 
through doors and windows, and then making a dash for 
camp. But before they got to the bridge, Jack Bridges, 
our marshal, was out with a big buffalo gun, and he 
dropped one of them, his horse went on, and so did the 
others. It was a long shot and probably a chance one, as 
Jack was several hundred yards distant. 

There was big excitement over this. I said: ''Put 
me on the jury and I will be elected foreman and settle 
this question forever." I said to the jury: ''We must 
bring in a verdict of justifiable homicide. We are bound 
to do this to protect our officers and save further killings. 
It is the best thing we can do for both sides." Some 
argued that these men had stopped their lawlessness, were 
trying to get back to camp, were nearly out of the town 
limits, and the officer ought to have let them go ; and if 
we returned such a verdict, the stock men would boycott 
me, and, instead of my store being headquarters for the 
stock men and selling them more than twice the amount of 
goods that all the other stores sold together, they would 
quit me entirely and I would sell them nothing. I said: 
"I will risk all that. They may be angry at first, but 
when they reflect that if we had condemned the officer 
for shooting the cowboy, it would give them encourage- 
ment, and they would come over and shoot up the town, 
regardless of consequences, and in the end there would be 
a dozen killed." I was satisfied the part we took would 
stop it forever; and so it did. As soon as the stock men 
got over their anger, they came to me and congratulated 
me on the stand I took, and said they could see it now 
in the light I presented it. 

There was no more shooting up the town. Strict 
orders were given by the marshal, when cowboys rode in, 
to take their guns out of the holsters, and bring them 
across to Wright & Beverley's store, where a receipt was 

— 174 — 



given for them. And, my ! what piles there were of them. 
At times they were piled up by the hundred. This order 
was strictly obeyed and proved to be a grand success, 
because many of the cowboys would proceed at once to 
tank up, and many would have been the killings if they 
could have got their guns when they were drunk; but 
they were never given back unless the owners were per- 
fectly sober. 

In the spring of 1878, there was a big fight between 
the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe railroad and the Denver 
& Rio Grande, to get possession of and hold the Grand 
Canyon of the Arkansas River where it comes out of the 
mountains just above Canon City, Colorado. Of course, 
the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe folks came to Dodge 
City for fighters and gunmen. It was natural for them 
to do so, for where in the whole universe were there to 
be found fitter men for a desperate encounter of this kind. 
Dodge City bred such bold, reckless men, and it was their 
pride and delight to be called upon to do such work. They 
were quick and accurate on the trigger, and these little 
encounters kept them in good training. They were called 
to arms by the railroad agent, Mr. J. H. Phillips. Twenty 
of the brave boys promptly responded, among whom 
might be numbered some of Dodge's most accomplished 
sluggers and bruisers and dead shots, headed by the gal- 
lant Captain Webb. They put down their names with a 
firm resolve to get to the joint in creditable style, in case 
of danger. The Dodge City Times remarks : 

''Towering like a giant among smaller men, was one 
of Erin's bravest sons whose name is Kinch Riley. Jerry 
Converse, a Scotchman, descendant from a warlike clan, 
joined the ranks of war. There were other braves who 
joined the ranks, bat we are unable to get a list of their 
names. We will bet a ten-cent note they clear the track 
of every obstruction." Which they did in creditable 
style. 

— 175 — 



Shooting all along the line, and only one man hurt! 
This does seem marvelous, for the number of shots fired, 
yet the record is true of the story I am about to relate. 
This was one of the most daring and dangerous shooting 
scrapes that Dodge City has ever experienced, and God 
knows, she has had many of them. 

It seems that Peacock and James Masterson, a second 
brother of Bat, ran a dance hall together. For some 
reason, Masterson wanted to discharge their bar-keeper, 
Al Upde graph, a brother-in-law of Peacock, which Pea- 
cock refused to do, over which they had serious difficulty ; 
and James Masterson telegraphed his brother, Bat, to 
come and help him out of his difficulties. I expect he 
made his story big, for he was in great danger, if the 
threats had been carried out. Bat thought so, at least, 
for he came at once, with a friend. 

Soon after his arrival, he saw Peacock and Updegraph 
going toward the depot. Bat holloed to them to stop, 
which I expect they thought a challenge, and each made 
for the corner of the little calaboose across the street. Bat 
dropped behind a railroad cut, and the ball opened; and 
it was hot and heavy, for about ten minutes, when parties 
from each side the street took a hand. One side was firing 
across at the other, and vice versa, the combatants being 
in the center. When Updegraph was supposed to be mor- 
tally wounded and his ammunition exhausted, he turned 
and ran to his side of the street, and, after a little, so did 
Peacock, when Bat walked back to the opposite side and 
gave himself up to the officers. The houses were riddled 
on each side of the street. Some had three or four balls 
in them; and no one seemed to know who did the shoot- 
ing, outside the parties directly concerned. It caused 
great excitement, at first, but the cooler heads thought 
discretion was the better part of valor, and, as both par- 
ties were to blame, they settled the difficulties amicably, 
and Bat took his brother away with hint. Both parties 

— 176 — 



♦ 



displayed great courage. They stood up and shot at each 
other until their ammunition was exhausted. 

Though all did not contribute directly to the popula- 
tion of Boot Hill, there were many deeds of violence com- 
mitted in Dodge City's first ten years of life, that paral- 
leled any which added a subject for interrment in that 
primitive burying ground. Such a case w^as the shooting 
of Dora Hand, a celebrated actress. 

The killing of Dora Hand was an accident; still, it 
was intended for a cold blooded murder, so was accidental 
only in the victim that suffered. It seems that Mayor 
James Kelly and a very rich cattleman's son, who had 
marketed many thousand head of cattle in Dodge, during 
the summer, had a drunken altercation. It did not amount 
to much, at the time, but, to do the subject justice, they 
say that Kelly did treat Kennedy badly. Anyhow, Ken- 
nedy got the worst of it. This aroused his half-breed 
nature. He quietly went to Kansas City, bought him the 
best horse that money could secure, and brought him back 
to Dodge. In the meantime, Mr. Kelly had left his place 
of abode, on account of sickness, and Miss Dora Hand 
was occupying his residence and bed. Kennedy, of course, 
was not aware of this. During the night of his return, or 
about four o'clock next morning, he ordered his horse and 
went to Kelly's residence and fired two shots through the 
door, without dismounting, and rode away. The ball 
struck Miss Hand in the right side under the arm, killing 
her instantly. She never woke up. 

Kennedy took a direction just opposite to his ranch. 
The officers had reason to believe who did the killing, 
but did not start in pursuit until the afternoon. The 
officers in pursuit were Sheriff Masterson, Wyat Erb, 
Charles Bassett, Duffy, and William Tighlman, as intrepid 
a posse as ever pulled a trigger. They went as far as Meade 
City, where they knew their quarry had to pass and went 
into camp in a very careless manner. In fact, they arranged 

— 111 — 



so as to completely throw Kennedy off his guard, and he 
rode right into them, when he was ordered three times to 
throw up his hands. Instead of doing so, he struck his n 
horse with his quirt, when several shots were fired by '! 
the officers, one shot taking effect in his left shoulder, 
making a dangerous wound. Three shots struck the horse, 
killing him instantly. The horse fell partly on Kennedy, 
and Sheriff Masterson said, in pulling him out, he had 
hold of the wounded arm and could hear the bones 
craunch. Not a groan did Kennedy let out of him, 
although the pain must have been fearful. And all he 
said was, "You sons of b — , I will get even with you for 
this.^^ 

Under the skillful operation of Drs. McCarty and 
Tremaine, Kennedy recovered, after a long sickness. They 
took four inches of the bone out, near the elbow. Of 
course, the arm was useless, but he used the other well 
enough to kill several people afterwards, but finally met 
his death by someone a little quicker on the trigger than 
himself. Miss Dora Hand was a celebrated actress and 
would have made her mark should she have lived. 

One Sunday night in October, 1883, there was a fatal 
encounter between two negroes, Henry Hilton and Nigger 
Bill, two as brave and desperate characters as ever 
belonged to the colored race. Some said they were both 
struck on the same girl and this was the cause. 

Henry was under bonds for murder, of which the fol- 
lowing is the circumstances. Negro Henry was the owner 
of a ranch and a little bunch of cattle. Coming in with a 
lot of white cowboys, they began joshing Henry, and one 
of them attempted to throw a rope over him. Henry 
warned them he would not stand any such rough treat- 
ment, if he was a nigger. He did this in a dignified and 
determined manner. Wlien one rode up and lassoed him, 
almost jerking him from his horse, Henry pulled his gun 
and killed him. About half of the cowboys said he was 

— 178 — 




CO 

< 



O 

m 



c 

c 



o 

o 



justifiable in killing his man ; it was self defense, for if 
he had not killed him, he would have jerked him from his 
horse and probably killed Henry, 

Negro Bill Smith was equally brave, and had been 
tried more than once. They were both found, locked in 
each other's arms (you might say), the next morning, 
lying on the floor in front of the bar, their empty six- 
shooters lying by the side of each one. The affair must 
have occurred some time after midnight, but no one was 
on hand to see the fight, and they died without a witness. 

T. C. Nixon, assistant city marshal, was murdered by 
Dave Mathers, known as ''Mysterious Dave," on the even- 
ing of July 21st, 1884. The cause of the shooting was on 
account of a shooting altercation between the two on the 
Friday evening previous. In this instance, it is alleged, 
Nixon had fired on Mathers, the shot taking no effect. 
On the following Monday evening, Mathers called to 
Nixon, and fired the fatal shot. This circumstance is 
mentioned as one of the cold blooded deeds, frequently 
taking place in frontier days. And, as usual, to use the 
French proverb for the cause, ' ' Search the woman. ' ' 

A wild tale of the plains is an account of a horrible 
crime committed in Nebraska, and the story seems almost 
incredible. A young Englishman, violating the confidence 
of his friend, a ranchman, is found in bed with the latter 's 
wife. This continues for some months until, in the latter 
part of May, 1884, one of the cowboys, who had a griev- 
ance against Burbank, surprised him and Mrs. Wilson in 
a compromising situation and reported it to the woman's 
husband, whose jealousy had already been aroused. At 
night, Burbank was captured while asleep in bed, by 
Wilson and three of his men, and bound before he had 
any show to make resistance. After mutilating him in 
a shocking manner, Burbank had been stripped of every 
bit of clothing and bound on the back of a wild broncho, 
which was started off by a vigorous lashing. Before morn- 

— 179 — 



ing, Burbank became unconscious, and was, therefore, 
unable to tell anything about his terrible trip. He thinks 
the outrage was committed on the night of May 27th, 
and he was rescued on the morning of June 3rd, which 
would make seven days that he had been traveling about 
the plains on the horse's back, without food or drink, and 
exposed to the sun and wind. Wilson's ranch is two 
hundred miles from the spot where Burbank was found, 
but it is hardly probable that the broncho took a direct 
course, and, therefore must have covered many more miles 
in his wild journey. When fully restored to health, Bur- 
bank proposed to make a visit of retaliation on Wilson, 
but it is unknown what took place. 

The young man was unconscious when found, and his 
recovery was slow. The details, in full, of the story, 
would lend credence to the tale ; but this modern Mazeppa 
suffered a greater ordeal than the orthodox Mazeppa. 
This story is vouched for as true, and it is printed in these 
pages as an example of plains' civilization. 

''Odd characters" would hardly express the mean- 
ing of the term, "bad men" — the gun shooters of the 
frontier days; and many of these men had a habitation 
in Dodge City. There was Wild Bill, who was gentle 
in manner ; Buffalo Bill, Avho was a typical plains gentle- 
man ; Cherokee Bill, with too many Indian characteristics 
to be designated otherwise ; Prairie Dog Dave, uncompro- 
mising and turbulent; Mysterious Dave, who stealthily 
employed his time; Fat Jack, a jolly fellow and wore 
good clothes; Cock-Eyed Frank, credited with drowning 
a man at Dodge City; Dutch Henry, a man of passive 
nature, but a slick one in horses and murders; and many 
others too numerous to mention; and many of them, no 
doubt, have paid the penalty of their crimes. 

Several times, in these pages, the ''dead line" is men- 
tioned. The term had two meanings, in early Dodge 
phraseology. One was used in connection with the cattle 

— 180 — 



trade; the other referred to the deeds of violence which 
were so frequent in the border town, and was an imagin- 
ary line, running east and west, south of the railroad 
track in Dodge City, having particular reference to the 
danger of passing this line after nine o'clock of an even- 
ing, owing to the vicious character of certain citizens who 
haunted the south side. If a tenderfoot crossed this 
"dead" line after the hour named, he was likely to 
become a "creature of circumstances;" and yet, there 
were men who did not heed the warning, and took their 
lives in their own hands. 

"Wicked Dodge" was frequently done up in prose 
and verse, and its deeds atoned for in extenuating circum- 
stances; but in every phase of betterment the well being 
was given newspaper mention, for it is stated: "Dodge 
City is not the town it used to be. That is, it is not so 
bad a place in the eyes of the people who do not sanction 
outlawry and lewdness." But Dodge City progressed in 
morality and goodness until it became a city of excellent 
character. 

Even the memory of the wild, wicked days will soon 
be effaced, but, as yet, when one recounts their wild 
stories and looks upon the scenes of that wildness and 
wickedness, one can almost fancy the shades of defunct 
bad men still walking up and down their old haunts and 
glaring savagely at the insipidity of their present civil- 
ized aspect. The "Denver Republican" expresses a simi- 
lar thought in a certain short poem, thus : 



181 — 



THE TWO GUN MAN 

The Two Gun Man walked through the town, 

And found the sidewalk clear; 
He looked around, with ugly frown, 

But not a soul was near. 
The streets were silent. Loud and shrill, 

No cowboy raised a shout ; 
Like panther bent upon the kill, 

The Two Gun Man walked out. 

The Two Gun Man was small and quick; 

His eyes were narrow slits; 
He didn't hail from Bitter Creek, 

Nor shoot the town to bits ; 
He drank, alone, deep draughts of sin. 

Then pushed away his glass. 
And silenced was each dance hall's din, 

When by the door he 'd pass. 

One day, rode forth this man of wrath, 

Upon the distant plain. 
And ne'er did he retrace his path, 

Nor was he seen again ; 
The cow town fell into decay; 

No spurred heels pressed its walks; 
But, through its grass grown ways, they say, 

The Two Gun Man still stalks. 



— 182 — 




c 
a: 

H 



CHAPTER-IX 

The Administration of Justice on the Frontier 

The story of Justice Joyce, in a previous chapter, 
sufficiently proves that the interpretation of law and the 
proceedings of courts of justice, were, to say the least, 
irregular, in their infant days on the Kansas plains. 
That Joyce was not alone in his peculiar legal practices, 
is verified by authentic accounts of similar practices in 
other places, not the least of which was Dodge City. 

A cattleman by the name of Peppard was one whom 
the officers disliked to see come to Dodge. Invariably 
rows began then, and he was in all of them. While driv- 
ing up a bunch of beeves to Dodge, so the story goes, 
Peppard 's boss killed the negro cook. It has been said 
that the boss and Peppard were great friends and chums, 
and the boss killed the cook because Peppard wanted 
him killed. Anyway, a short time after they arrived at 
Dodge, Peppard and his boss fell out. The next morning 
Peppard saw him behind a bar in one of the saloons, and 
straightway procured a shot-gun loaded with buck, and 
turned it loose at the boss, who dodged behind the ice- 
chest, which was riddled. A very narrow escape for the 
boss it was. Peppard then took a man and dug up the 
dead negro, chopped off his head with an ax, brought it 
in a sack to within thirty miles of Dodge, when nightfall 
overtook them and they had to lay out. The negro had 
been dead two weeks, and it was very warm weather. 
"Wolves were attracted by the scent, and made a most 
terrible racket around the camp-fire, and it was decidedly 
unpleasant for the two men. Peppard 's man weakened 
first and said they must remove the head or the camp. 
Inasmuch as the head was the easier to remove, they took 
it a mile or two away. Then the wolves took it and the 
sack several miles further, and they had much difficulty 

— 183 — 



in finding it. At last it was produced in court with the 
bullet-hole in the skull, and the perplexing question was 
sprung on the court as to its jurisdiction to hold an 
inquest when only a fractional part of the remains was 
produced in court. The case was ably argued, pro and 
con. Those in favor of holding the inquest maintained 
that the production of the head in court included the 
other necessary parts of the anatomy, and was the best 
evidence on earth of his demise, and that the bullet-hole 
was a silent witness of his taking-off. The opposition 
argued that if the court had jurisdiction to hold an inquest 
on the head, there was no reason why the courts of 
Comanche county and other localities could not do the 
same on any other fractional part of the anatomy which 
might be found scattered over their bailiwick. The 
court, after mature deliberation, decided to give contin- 
uance until such time as the rest of the remains could 
be produced in court. Peppard left the town disgusted 
with the decision, and, for all I know to the contrary, the 
case is still docketed for continuance. 

Here is an early day account of a proceeding in the 
Dodge City Police Court : 

'' ^The marshal will preserve strict order,' said the 
judge. 'Any person caught throwing turnips, cigar 
stumps, beets, or old quids of tobacco, at this court, will 
be immediately arraigned before this bar of justice." 
Then Joe looked savagely at the mob in attendance, 
hitched his ivory handle a little to the left, and adjusted 
his mustache. 'Trot out the wicked and unfortunate, and 
let the cotillion commence,' said the judge. 

" 'City vs. James Martin' — but just then, a complaint 
not on file had to be attended to, and 'Reverant' John 
Walsh, of Las Animas, took the throne of justice, while 
the judge stepped over to Hoover's, for a drink of old rye 
to brace him up for the ordeal to come. 

— 184 — 



'' 'You are here for horse stealing/ says Walsh. *I 
can clean out the d — d court,' says Martin, and the city 
attorney was banged into a pigeon-hole in the desk, the 
table upset, the windows kicked out, and the railing 
broke down. When order was restored, Joe's thumb was 
'some chawed,' Assistant Marshal Masterson's nose sliced 
a trifle, and the rantankerous originator of all this trouble, 
James Martin, Esquire, was bleeding from a half dozen 
cuts on the head, inflicted by Masterson's revolver. Then 
Walsh was deposed and Judge Frost took his seat, chew- 
ing burnt coffee for his complexion. 

"The evidence was brief and to the point. 'Again,' 
said the judge, as he rested his alabaster brow on his left 
paw, 'do you appear within this sacred realm, of which 
I, and I only, am high muck-i-muck. You have disturbed 
the quiet of our lovely village. Why, instead of letting 
the demon of passion fever your brain into this fray, did 
you not shake hands and call it all a mistake. Then the 
lion and the lamb w^ould have lain down together, and 
white-robed Peace would have fanned you with her 
silvery wings, and elevated your thoughts to the good and 
pure by her smiles of approbation. But, no ! You went 
to chawing and clawing and pulling hair. It's ten dol- 
lars and costs, Mr. Martin.' 

" 'Make way for the witnesses,' says Joe, as he winks 
at the two coons that come to the front, and plants one on 
each side of Mr. Morphy who appears for the defendant. 
'A thorn betw^een two roses.' 

*'It was the City vs. Monroe Henderson, all being 
'niggas' except the city attorney and Mr. Morphy. The 
proscuting witness. Miss Carrie, looked 'the last rose of 
summer all faded and gone.' Her best heart's blood 
(pumped from her nose) was freely bespattering the light 
folds which but feebly hid her palpitating bosom. Her 
star-board eye was closed, and a lump like a burnt biscuit 
ornamented her forehead. The evidence showed that the 

— 185 — 



idol of her affections, a certain moke named Harris, had 
first busted her eye, loosened her ribs, and kicked the 
stuffing generally out of Miss Carrie. Carrie then got 
on the warpath, procured a hollow-ground razor, flung 
tin cans at the defendant, and used such naughty language 
as made the judge breathe a silent prayer, and caused 
Walsh to take to the open air in horror. But the fact 
still remained that the defendant had 'pasted' her one 
on the nose. The city attorney dwelt upon the heinous- 
ness of a strong giant man smiting a frail woman. Mr. 
Morphy, for the defendant, told two or three good stories, 
bragged on the court, winked at the witnesses, and 
thought he had a good case ; but the marble jaws of justice 
snapped with firmness, and it was five dollars and costs, 
and the court stood adjourned. 

Joe Waters tells a humorous story which is a fair 
specimen of the rough verbal joking, common to early 
day conversation. It was issued in 1881, is entitled, 
'•'The Attorney for Jesus," and runs as follows, the loca- 
tion being the Ford county court at Dodge City, of course ; 
and Waters the prosecuting attorney. The case appeared 
on the docket entitled, "The State of Kansas vs. Jesus 
Perea," was solemnly called by the judge, and the pro- 
ceedings are in this wise, by Waters : 

" 'The State vs. Jesus Perea,' the court now calls; 
'I appear for Jesus,' Gryden bawls; 
'His last name you will please to state, 
Or, Harry, I will fine you, sure as fate. ' 

" 'Perea,' says Gryden, so low the court could hardly 

hear, 
'He is the man for whom I appear;' 
Says the court, sotto voce, 'When the savior employs such 

as him. 
Our chances for heaven are getting quite slim.' " 

The wit or humor of attorney and court was not con- 
fined to bench and bar, but the following is a terse argu- 
ment by a lay woman : 

— 186 — 



'*A good story is told of a Dodge City divorce suit. 
The jury refused to grant the lady a divorce, and, when 
the court inquired if she would like to 'poll the jury,' 
she said : ' That is just what I would delight to do if your 
honor will give me a pole;' and the glance she gave the 
jury made the cold chills run up and down their spinal 
columns." 

Dodge City had some unique characters in the judicial 
harness. Bill Nye, the humorist of the Larimie, Wyom- 
ing, ''Boomerang," has a story about "Mcintosh on 
Fees," a justice of the peace named Mcintosh furnishing 
the humorist with his droll account. On one occasion, in 
a case before Justice Mcintosh, the jury rendered a ver- 
dict for the plaintiff who was unable to pay the fees; so 
the justice promptly reversed the judgment in favor of 
the defendant, who made good. The plaintiff appealed 
the case, but was killed one morning before breakfast, 
prior to the session of the circuit court which was to 
dispose of the case. 

"Mcintosh on Fees" didn't know the difference 
between quo warranto and the erysipelas, but he had more 
dignity than the chief justice of the supreme court of the 
United States. Once, however, his dignity was seriously 
ruffled, when old Spangler brought to him the exhumed 
head of a deceased darkey in a gunny-sack, for the 
inquest mentioned at the beginning of this chapter. The 
gruesome find, with an aperature on the side of the 
head, so mortified the dignity of the justice that he 
resigned his office and left the country. 

The subject of the administration of justice on the 
frontier would hardly be duly considered without some 
reference to lynchings. But, in speaking of lynching, 
in the early days of Dodge City, there was not much of 
this kind of work carried on. When certain party or 
parties got too obnoxious to the decent part of the com- 

— 187 — 



miinity, they would be notified to leave town, and, if they 
did not go, the vigilants or respectable citizens would 
raise up in their might and shoot them to death. There 
were only two lynchings or hangings. One occurred in 
the west part of town, for horse stealing. One night, 
long after sundown, a small party of men rode into town, 
stopped at the store, bought a piece of rope, and quietly 
mounted and rode away. The next day, report reached 
Dodge that three men were hanging to a big cottonwood 
tree — a large lone tree, in the center of a nice little bottom 
near the crossing of Saw Log 'Creek, about twelve miles 
northeast of Dodge. 

One of the three was a young man, about twenty-one, 
Calahan by name, who had been brought up in the right 
way. His father was a good Christian gentleman, and a 
minister of the gospel, and it nearly broke his heart, as 
well as the mother's. His uncle. Dr. Calahan, was the 
leading dentist of Topeka, and stood at the head of his 
profession throughout the state. Of course, they took his 
remains to Topeka for decent burial. The young man 
had no idea what he was getting into when he came to 
Dodge a stranger, looking for work, and hired out to herd 
horses for a noted horse thief, Owens by name, residing 
in Dodge. But Calahan gradually drifted in with them, 
and, I suppose, found the employment so fascinating and 
exciting that he became one of them. But this broke up 
the Owens gang here, and Owens emigrated north, where 
his business was more flourishing, and soon after, his son 
w^as hung for the same crime. 



I 



— 188 



CHAPTER X 

The Passing of the Buffalo 

Prom the nature and habits of the buffalo hunter as 
already described, and from the fact of his having figured 
so extensively in all these stories of frontier life, it will 
readily be seen that the buffalo hunter was closely identi- 
fied with every phase of existence, of that period and 
locality. Indeed, for many years, the great herds of 
buffalo was the pivot around which swung the greater 
part of the thrilling activities of the plains in early days. 
When the railroad appeared the shipping of buffalo hides 
and meat had much to do with the immense trade that 
immediately sprang up in frontier towns like Dodge City. 
With the removal of the buffaloes from the range, room 
was made for the cattleman who immediately followed 
with his wide-stretching and important industry. And, 
again, the passing of the buffalo herds, at the hands of 
the white men, was one of the prime causes of Indian 
hostility, and the keynote of their principal grievance 
against the whites, and its resulting atrocities and blood- 
shed. 

In a former chapter, I endeavored to give an idea of 
the size of the buffalo herds of early days. I here give 
a clipping from the Dodge City Times, of August 18th, 
1877, in support of my estimate of the great number of 
buffaloes on the plains at that time : 

TERRIBLE SLAUGHTER OF BUFFALO'. 

"Dickinson County has a buffalo hunter by the name 
of Mr. Warnock, who has killed as high as 658 in one 
winter. — Edwards County Leader. 

"O, dear, what a mighty hunter! Ford County has 
twenty men who each have killed five times that many in 
one winter. The best on record, however, is that of Tom 

— 189 — 



Nickson, who killed 120 at one stand in forty minutes, 
and who, from the 15th of September to the 20th of Octo- 
ber, killed 2,173 buffaloes. Come on with some more big" 
hunters if you have any. ' ' 

This slaughter, of course, w^as resented by the Indians 
and the conflicts between them and the hunters were 
fierce and frequent. In fact, the hunters were among the 
most intrepid and determined of Indian fighters, and 
were known as such. In John R. Cook's remarkable book, 
''The Border and the Buffalo," remarkable not only for 
its wonderful stories of Indian fights and terrible suffer- 
ing from thirst, but remarkable also for its honest truth- 
fulness, he says: ''That noble band of buffalo hunters 
who stood shoulder to shoulder and fought Kiowas, 
Comanches, and Staked Plains Apaches, during the sum- 
mer of 1877, on the Llano Estacado, or the Staked Plains 
of Texas. ' ' 

This refers to a body of men, largely from Dodge 
City, and Charles Rath and myself among the latter, who 
previously located in that country. On our arrival, we 
camped on a surface lake whose waters were from a 
June water-spout or cloud burst, and now covered a 
surface of about five acres of ground, Lieutenant Coop- 
er's measurement. In the center of the basin it showed 
a depth of thirty-three inches. Here we witnessed a 
remarkable sight. At one time, during the day, could 
be seen horses, mules, buffaloes, antelope, coyotes, wolves, 
a sand hill crane, negro soldiers, white men, our part 
Cherokee Indian guide, and the Mexican guide, all drink- 
ing and bathing, at one and the same time, from this lake. 
Nearly all these men were from Dodge City ; that is why 
I mention them, and you will hear of their heroic deeds 
of bravery and suffering further along. 

Outside of a tented circus, that mentioned was one 
of the greatest aggregations of the animal kingdom, on 
so small a space of land and water. One can imagine 

— 190 — 



1 



what kind of water this must have been when taking into 
account that nearly a month previous it had suddenly 
fallen from the clouds, upon a dry, sun parched soil with 
a hard-pan bottom, being exposed to a broiling hot sun 
about sixteen hours of every twenty-four, while the 
thermometer was far above one hundred degrees Fahren- 
heit, and an occasional herd of buffaloes standing or wal- 
lowing in it, not to mention the ever coming and going 
antelope, wild, horse, wolves, the snipe, curlew, cranes 
and other wild fowl and animals, all of which frequented 
this place for many miles around. And yet, we mixed 
bread, made coffee, and filled our canteens as well as our 
bellies with it. And yet again, there were men in our 
party who, in six more days would, like Esau, have sold 
their birthright for the privilege of drinking and bathing 
in this same decoction. This was on the Staked Plains — 
Llano Estacado. 

The spring of 1877, the Indians had got very bold. 
They raided the Texas frontier for hundreds of miles, 
not only stealing their stock but burning the settlers' 
homes and killing the women and children, or carrying 
them into captivity which was worse than death. Cap- 
tain Lee, of the Tenth cavalry, a gallant, brave officer 
and Indian fighter, had rendered splendid service by 
breaking up and literally distroying a band of Staked 
Plains Indians, bringing into Fort Griffin all the women 
and children and a number of curiosities. As these 
Indians got all their supplies through half breed Mexicans, 
strange to say, all these supplies came from way down on 
the Gulf of California, hundreds of miles overland. And 
I will interpolate here, that these Indian women and 
children never saw a white man before they were cap- 
tured. 

Captain Lee, at one time, commanded Fort Dodge, 
and was stationed there a long time. While he was a 
brave and daring officer and did great service, it resulted 

— 191 — 



in stirring up these Indians, making them more revenge- 
ful, villainous, and blood thirsty than ever. They now 
began to depredate on the hunters, killing several of the 
best and most influential of them, and running off their 
stock. This the hunters could not stand, so they got 
together at Charles Rath's store (a place they named 
*'R-ath," and, as I said before, most of these hunters had 
followed Rath dow^n from Dodge City), and organized. 
There were not more than fifty of them, but my, what 
men ! Each was a host w^ithin himself. They feared noth- 
ing and would go anywhere, against anything wearing a 
breech-clout, no matter how great the number. I do 
not give the names of these brave men because I remember 
but a few of their names and, therefore, mention them 
collectively. 

This little band of brave men were treated liberally 
by the stock men, those who had lost horses by the Indian 
raids. They were given mounts, and these stock men also 
gave the hunters bills of sale to any horses of their brand 
they might capture. They knew to encourage these men 
and lend them assistance was protecting their frontier. 

The hunters chose Mr. Jim Harvey, I think, for their 
captain, and they chose wisely and well. They organized 
thoroughly and then started for the Indians. They had 
a few skirmishes and lost a few men, and also went 
through great hardships on account of hunger, thirst, 
cold and exposure, but they kept steadily on the trail. 
You see, these hardy men had all the endurance of the 
Indian, could stand as much punishment in the way of 
hunger, thirst, and cold, were good riders, good shots, 
and superior in every way to the Indians. 

Finally, they discovered about where the main camp 
of the Indians was, about the middle of March, 1877. The 
trail got warm, and they knew they were in close prox- 
imity to the main camp at some water-holes on the Staked 
Plains. This country was new to the hunters and they 

— 192 — 



knew they were up against a big band of Indians. Never- 
theless, they were determined to fight them, no matter at 
what odds. 

In the afternoon they discovered an Indian scout. 
Of course, they had to kill him; if he escaped he would 
warn the camp. Now then, after this happened, the 
hunters were obliged to use due diligence in attacking 
the camp because w^hen the Indian scout did not turn up 
in a certain time, the Indians' suspicions would be aroused. 
The hunters expected to discover the camp and attack just 
before day, but they had difficulty in finding the camp 
in the night. Long after midnight, however, the hunters' 
scouts got on to it, but by the time the scouts got back to 
the boys and reported, notwithstanding they made great 
haste, it was after sunrise before the hunters got to it. 
This frustrated all their plans, but the hunters attacked 
them gallantly and rode into sure range and opened fire. 
Unfortunately, nearly the first volley from the Indians 
one of the hunters was shot from his horse and another 
had his horse killed under him and in falling broke his 
wrist, while their main guide, Hose a, was shot through 
the shoulder. Thus handicapped with three badly wound- 
ed men from their little band, one having to be carried 
back on a stretcher which required three or four men, all 
under a murderous fire, no wonder they had to retreat 
back to the hills, but fighting every step of the way. And, 
if I remember rightly, the Indians afterwards acknowl- 
edged to Captain Lee, that they lost over thirty men 
killed outright, and a much larger number wounded, and 
they abandoned everything to get away with their women 
and children. They abandoned, on their trail, several 
hundred head of horses. 

Now these forty hunters were fighting three hundred 
warriors. It was a most wonderful fight and broke the 
backbone of the Indian depredations. There were only 
a few raids made after this, and I quote from Cook who 
says : 

— 193 — 



''There was a bill up in the Texas legislature, to pro- 
tect the buffalo from the hunters, when General Sheridan 
went before that body and said: 'Instead of stopping 
the hunters, you ought to give them a hearty, unanimous 
vote of thanks, and give each hunter a medal of bronze 
with a dead buffalo on one side and discouraged Indian 
on the other. These men have done more in the last 
two years, and will do more in the next year to settle 
the vexed Indian question, than the regular army has 
done in the last thirty. They are destroying the Indians' 
commissary, and it is a well known fact that an army, 
losing its base of supplies, is placed at a great disad- 
vantage. Send them powder and lead, if you will, but, 
for the sake of peace, let them kill, skin, and sell until 
the buffalo are exterminated. Then your prairies can 
be covered with cattle and the cowboy, who follows the 
hunter as a second forerunner of an advanced civiliza- 
tion.' " 

How literally true his prediction has become ! 

Naturally, the affairs and movements of the hunters 
was the foundation for much of the news of the day, at 
this period. The following is a common newspaper item 
in 1878 : 

"Messrs. T. B. Van Voorhis, J. A. Minor, H. L. 
Thompson, Ira Pettys, George W. Taylor, Frank Van 
Voorhis, Frank Harder, and D. C. Macks, all residents 
of the eastern portion of Ford County, arrived in the 
city last Tuesday after an absence of seven weeks on a 
hunting expedition through the southern country. While 
hunting on the Salt Fork of Red River the party found 
a span of mules that had been stolen from Van Voorhis 
last July, They were in possession of Milton Burr who 
had purchased them of Chummy Jones who is now in 
hell, if there is such a place. Mr. Burr, upon hearing the 
evidence of the claimant promptly turned the mules over 
to the owner who brought them home with him. One of 

— 194 — 



I 




^ 



SouLE College 





In the Early Days of the Hide Trade at Dodge City. 
Old Dance Hall at Right. 



the party informed us that he saw a couple of animals 
that were stolen from Mr. Hathaway but when he went 
to identify them they could not be found. 

''Some of the party called at Mr. Dubb's camp and 
found him and Mr. Stealy doing well. They were camped 
on Oakes Cfeek, eight miles this side of Red River and 
have killed about 1,500 buffaloes. They have a nice lot 
of meat and hides. Mr. Dubbs asked the party to remem- 
ber him to his friends in Dodge City." 

Another newspaper item very much to the point, 
since it gives an excellent description of the mode of 
killing and preparing the buffalo for market, is entitled, 
''Slaughtering the Buffalo," and is from a "Shackelford 
County (Texas) Letter to the Galveston News." It fol- 
lows verbatim : 

' ' The town of Griffin is supported by buffalo hunters 
and is their general rendezvous in this section. The 
number of hunters on the ranges this season is esti- 
mated at 1,500. We saw at Griffin a plat of ground of 
about four acres covered with buffalo hides spread out 
to dry, besides a large quantity piled up for shipment. 
These hides are worth in this place from $1.00 to $1.60 
each. The generally accepted idea of the exciting chase 
in buffalo hunting is not the plan pursued by the men 
who make it a regular business. They use the needle 
gun with telescope, buy powder by the keg, their lead 
in bulk and the shells and make their own cartridges. 
The guns in a party of hunters are used by only one or 
two men, who say they usually kill a drove of thirty or 
forty buffaloes on one or two acres of ground. As soon 
as one is killed the whole herd, smelling the blood, collect 
around the dead body, snuffing and pawing up the ground 
and uttering a singular noise. The hunter continues to 
shoot them down as long as he can remain concealed or 
until the last animal 'bites the dust.' The buffalo pays 
no attention to the report of the gun, and flees only at 

— 195 — 



tlie sight or scent of his enemy. The others of the party- 
then occupy themselves in 'peeling.' Some of these have 
become so skillful they offer to bet they can skin a five 
or six-year-old bull in five minutes. The meat is also 
saved and sent to market and commands a good price." 

We mention this special article because these hunters 
were all from Dodge City, formerly, and they drifted 
south along with the buffalo. 

The Llano Estacado, or Staked Plains, in Texas, 
which has been mentioned as the scene of a particularly 
fierce battle between Dodge City hunters and Indians, 
was a great range for buffalo ; and perhaps a description 
of it, at that time, would be in order. A writer in a 
Texas paper, in 1881, treats the subject in an interesting 
way: 

'* There is something romantic about these canyons 
and surrounding plains, familiarly known as the 'Llano 
Estacado.' One would imagine a boundless stretch of 
prairie, limited, in all directions, by the horizon, a 
monotonous, dreary waste, the Great American Desert, 
offering but little to invite settlement or attract interest. 
My observation, from two months' surveying and pros- 
pecting in this 'terra incognita,' has convinced me of the 
error of any previous opinions I may have formed of this 
section of the state. The canyons, hemmed in by the 
plains, the latter rising some two hundred feet above 
the bed of the streams in the former, are as fair and 
picturesque as the famous Valley of the Shenandoah, or 
the most favored sections, in this respect, in California, 
affording perennial springs of pure, sweet, and mineral 
waters, gypsum, salt, iron, lime, and sulphur; also, nutri- 
tious grasses, green all winter, capable of sustaining 
sufficient cattle to supply a nation. 

*'The breaks of the plains, corresponding to second 
valley prairie, incrusted with pure white gypsum and 
mica, assuming many dazzling shapes, remind one of the 

— 196 — 



battlements of an old fort or castle, or the profile of a 
large city with its cathedral walls and varied habitations 
of the humble and princely of a huge metropolis. Romance 
lingers on the summit of these horizontal, fancifully- 
shaped bluffs of the Llano Estacado, so called, and the 
dreamer or romancer would never exhaust his genius in 
painting vivid pictures of the imagination. 

''This portion of the state, having little protection 
from the incursions of the Indians, has not yet been a 
favorite field for settlement, and only within the past 
three or four years a few hardy, fearless stockmen have 
brought out their flocks, from the overcrowded ranges 
of the interior, to enjoy the rich pasturage afforded here. 
These pioneers, for such they are and deserve to be 
regarded as stockmen, are traduced and misrepresented, 
and live in the most primitive style imaginable. A cave 
in the ground, in many instances, covered only with poles 
and earth, affords them shelter from the snow and blood- 
freezing northers, which come often with the force and 
intensity of a sirocco, from the timberless plains. 

''Agriculture has not been tried here, but the soil in 
this and many of the surrounding counties, a red choco- 
late loam, in some instances a mold, must yield abunt- 
antly to the efforts of the husbandman. The immense 
amount of snow (we have it on the ground now five 
inches deep), falling during the fall months, it seems 
would prepare the soil for early spring crops of cereals; 
and the volunteer plum thickets and currants indicate 
that many of the fruits would do well here. The rain- 
fall, so I am informed by the settlers, has averaged well 
for many years past, even upon the plains; and, with 
the exception of a few arid sand wastes and salt deposits, 
it is fair to predict that, in time, the Great American 
Desert will have followed the red man, or proved as 
veritable a myth as the Wandering Jew. 

— 197 — 



*'The tall sedge grass upon the plains has been burn- 
ing for a week or more past, only ceasing with the recent 
snow-falls, and the canyons are lit up as by the intensity 
of a Syrian sun or electric light. These annual burnings 
are really an advantage, fertilizing and adding strength 
to the spring grasses." 

Notwithstanding the possibilities of the Llano Esta- 
eado and other sections of the great plains, one can 
imagine what the lives of the buffalo hunters must have 
been amid such wild and comfortless surroundings. For 
all that, many of the hunters seemed happy in the life, 
and occasionally one even waxed eloquent, not to say 
poetical, upon the subject. The following lines bear 
witness to this fact, being composed in the very midst of 
buffalo hunting daj^s, by as unlikely an aspirant to efforts 
at poesy as one can well imagine. The lines are not 
classical, but, considering their author, they are as won- 
derful production of the pen as the perfect verses of 
scholarly Milton. Whatever their faults as literature, 
they at least give a concise and telling picture of the 
buffalo hunter's life. 

THE BUFFALO HUNTER. 

"Of all the lives beneath the sun. 
The buffalo hunter's is the jolliest one! 
His wants are few, simple, and easily supplied, 
A wagon, team, gun, and a horse to ride. 
He chases the buffalo o'er the plains; 
A shot at smaller game he disdains. 
Bison hides are his bills of exchange, 
And all are his that come Avithin range ; 
From the wintry blast they shield his form. 
And afford him shelter during the storm. 
A steak from the hump is a feast for a king ; 
Brains, you know, are good, and tongue a delicious thing. 
When the day's hunt is over, and all have had their 
dinners, 

— 198 — 




fl o 



CO 



CO OJ 

s -^ 

-^ s 

J5 ^ 

o . 

^ o 

1-3 =<^ 

S ."* 

o "O 



u< Qli 
O 



Tlie hunter lights his pipe, to entertain the skinners ; 

He tells of the big bull that bravely met his fate ; 

Of the splendid line shot that settled his mate ; 

Of the cow, shot too low, of another, too high ; 

And of all the shots that missed he tells the reason why ; 

How the spike stood his ground, when all but him had fled, 

And refused to give it up till he filled him with lead; 

How he trailed up the herd for five miles or more, 

Leaving, over forty victims weltering in their gore ; 

All about the blasted calves that put the main herd to 

flight, 
And kept them on the run until they disappeared from 

sight. 
When weary of incidents relating to the chase. 
They discuss other topics, each one in its place ; 
Law, politics, religion, and the weather, 
And the probable price of the buffalo leather. 
A tender-footed hunter is a great greenhorn. 
And the poor old granger an object of scorn; 
But the worst deal of all is reserved for hide buyers, 
Who are swindlers and robbers and professional liars. 
The hunter thinks, sometimes in the future, of a change in 

his life, 
And indulges in dreams of a home and a wife, 
Who will sit by his side and listen to his story of the boys 

and the past, 
And echo his hopes of reunion in the happy hunting 

grounds at last." 

My old time friend and former partner, Charles Rath, 
was a great buffalo hunter and freighter. No one handled 
as many hides and robes as he, and few men killed more 
buffaloes. He was honest, true, and brave. He bought 
and sold more than a million of buffalo hides, and tens 
of thousands of buffalo robes, and hundreds of cars of 
buffalo meat, both dried and fresh, besides several car 
loads of buffalo tongues. He could speak the Cheyenne 

— 199 — 



and Arapahoe languages, and was one of the best sign 
men. He lived right among the Indians for many years 
and acquired their habits; but he never gained great 
confidence in them, and no man used greater precauticn 
to guard against their attacks. 

Nearly all of the buffalo hunters, bull- whackers, cow- 
boys, and bad men had a popular nickname or peculiar 
title of some kind bestowed upon them, supposed to be 
more or less descriptive of some peculiarity in their 
make-up, and which was often in such common use as to 
almost obscure the fact that the individual possessed any 
other or more conventional name. Prairie Dog Dave, 
Blue Pete, Mysterious Dave, and others are mentioned 
elsewhere in these pages. In addition, might be named, 
many others, some very significant and appropriate ; such 
as. Dirty Face Charley, The Off Wheeler, The Near 
Wheeler, Eat 'Em Up Jake, Shoot 'Em Up Mike, Stink 
Finger Jim, The Hoo-Doo Kid, Frosty, The Whitey Kid, 
Light Fingered Jack, The Stuttering Kid, Dog Kelley, 
Black Kelley, Shot Gun Collins, Bull Whack Joe, Bar 
Keep Joe, Conch Jones, Black Warrior, Hurricane Bill, 
and Shoot His Eye Out Jack. Women were also often nick- 
named, those of unsavory character generally taking a 
title of the same sort ; and the married sharing the honors 
of their husbands title, as Hurricane Bill and Hurricane 
Minnie ; Rowdy Joe and Rowdy Kate. 

Prairie Dog Dave is distinguished as being the hunter 
who killed the famous white buffalo, which he sold to 
the writer for one thousand dollars, in the early days 
of Dodge City. So far as early settlers know, only one 
white buffalo has been known. Of the thousands upon 
thousands shot by the plainsmen, in buffalo hunting days, 
none were ever white. Naturally, Dave's specimen, which 
I had mounted and shipped to Kansas City, forty years 
ago, attracted wide attention, not only in Kansas City, 
but throughout the West. It was exhibited at fairs and 
expositions, and Indians and plainsmen traveled for miles 

— 200 — 



to get a look at it. The specimen was loaned to the State 
of Kansas, and, until nine years ago, was on exhibition 
in the state capitol at Topeka. 

I wonld feel that these sketches were incomplete 
did I not give at least a brief account of the "battle of 
the adobe wall," in which the handful of brave men who 
fought so valiantly against the Indians were all Kansans. 

Long years ago, before General Sam Houston led the 
Texans on to victory, before their independence was 
achieved, while the immense territory southwest of the 
Louisiana purchase was still the property of Mexico, a 
party of traders from Santa Fe wandered up into north- 
western Texas and constructed a rude fort. Its walls, 
like those of many Mexican dwellings of the present day, 
were formed of a peculiar clay, hard baked by the sun. 
At that time the Indians of the plains were numerous and 
warlike, and white men who ventured far into their 
country found it necessary to be prepared to defend 
themselves in case of attacks. Doubtless the fortress 
served the purpose of its builders long and well. If the 
old adobe wall had been endowed with speech, what 
stories might it not have told of desperate warfare, of 
savage treachery, and the noble deeds of brave men. 
However, in the '70 's, all that remained to even suggest 
these missing leaves of the early history of the plains 
were the outlines of the earthen fortifications. 

In 1874 a number of buffalo hunters from Dodge 
City took up headquarters at the ruins. The place was 
selected, not only because of its location in the very 
center of the buffalo country, but also because of its 
numerous other advantages, and the proximity of a 
stream of crystal, clear water which flowed into the 
Canadian River a short distance below. After becoming 
settled at the trading post, and erecting two large 
houses of sod, which were used as store buildings, the 
men turned their attention to building a stockade, which 

— 201 — 



was never completed. As spring advanced and the 
weather became warm, the work lagged and the hunters 
became careless, frequently leaving the doors open at 
night to admit the free passage of air, and sleeping out- 
of-doors and late in the morning, until the sun was high. 

Among the Indians of the plains was a medicine 
man, shrewd and watchful, who still cherished the hope 
that his people might eventually be able to overcome the 
white race and check the progress of civilization. After 
brooding over the matter for some time, he evolved a 
scheme, in which not only his own nation, but the 
Arapahoes, Comanches, and Apaches were interested. A 
federation was formed, and the Indians proceeded against 
the settlements of northwestern Texas and southwestern 
Kansas. Minimic, the medicine man, having observed 
that the old Mexican fort was again inhabited, and being 
fully informed with regard to the habits of the white men, 
led the warriors to attack the buffalo station, promising 
them certain victory, vv^ithout a battle. He had prepared 
his medicine carefully, and in consequence the doors of 
the houses would be open and the braves would enter in 
the early morning, while their victims were asleep, under 
the influence of his wonderful charm. They would kill 
and scalp every occupant of the place without danger to 
themselves, for his medicine was strong, and their war 
paint would render them invisible. 

On the morning of the fight, some of the hunters who 
were going out that day were compelled to rise early. A 
man starting to the stream for water suddenly discovered 
the presence of Indians. He ran back and aroused his 
comrades; then rushed outside to awaken two men who 
were sleeping in wagons. Before this could be accom- 
plished, the savages were swarming around them. The 
three men met a horrible death at the hands of the yelling 
and capering demons, who now surrounded the sod build- 
ings. The roofs were covered with dirt, making it 

— 202 — 



I 



impossible to set fire to them, and there were great 
double doors with heavy bars. There were loopholes in 
the building, through which those within could shoot at 
the enemy. 

The Indians, sure of triumph, were unusually daring, 
and again and again they dashed up to the entrances, 
three abreast, then suddenly wheeling their horses, 
backed against the doors with all possible force. The 
pressure was counteracted by barricading with sacks 
of flour. The doors were pushed in by the weight of 
the horses, until there was a small crevice through which 
they would hurl their lances, shoot their arrows, and fire 
their guns as they dashed by. Now they would renew 
their attack more vigorously than ever, and dash up to 
the port holes by the hundreds, regardless of the hunters' 
deadly aim. Saddle after saddle would be empty after 
each charge, and the loose horses rushed madly around, 
adding to the deadly strife and noise of battle going on. 
I At one time there was a lull in the fight ; there was a 
I young warrior, more daring and desperate than his fel- 
lows, mounted on a magnificent pony, decorated with a 
gaudy war bonnet, and his other apparel equally as bril- 
liant, who wanted, perhaps, to gain distinction for his 
bravery and become a great chief of his tribe, made a 
bold dash from among his comrades toward the buildings. 
He rode with the speed of an eagle, and as straight as 
an arrow, for the side of the building where the port 
holes were most numerous and danger greatest, succeeded 
in reaching them, and, leaping from his horse, pushed 
his six-shooter through a port hole and emptied it, filling 
the room with smoke. He then attempted a retreat, but 
in a moment he was shot down ; he staggered to his feet, 
but was again shot down, and, whilst lying on the ground, 
he deliberately drew another pistol from his belt and 
blew out his brains. 

There were only fourteen guns all told with the 
hunters, and certainly there were over five hundred 

— 203 — 



Indians, by their own admission afterwards. The ground 
around, after the fight, was strewn with dead horses and 
Indians. Twenty-seven of the latter lay dead, besides a 
number of them had been carried off by their comrades. 
How many v/ounded there were we never knew, and they 
(the Indians) would never tell, perhaps, because they 
were so chagrined at their terrible defeat. After the 
ammunition had been exhausted, some of the men melted 
lead and molded bullets, while the remainder kept up the 
firing, which continued throughout the entire day. 
Minimic rode from place to place with an air of bragga- 
docio encouraging his followers and making himself gen- 
erally conspicuous. A sharp-shooter aimed at him, in the 
distance, possibly a mile, and succeeded in killing the 
gaily painted pony of the prophet. When the pony went 
down, Minimic explained to his followers that it was 
because the bullet had struck where there w^as no painted 
place. In the midst of the excitement, while bullets w^ere 
flying thick and fast, a mortally wounded savage fell 
almost on the threshold of one of the stores. Billy Tyler, 
moved with pity, attempted to open the door in order to 
draw him inside, but was instantly killed. The struggle 
lasted until dark, when the Indians, defeated by fourteen 
brave men, fell back, with many dead and wounded. The 
hunters had lost four of their number, but within a few 
days two hundred men collected within the fortifications, 
and the allies did not venture to renew the conflict. Old 
settlers agree that the ''battle of adobe wall" was one of 
the fiercest fought on the plains. 

Such is a brief account, founded on the author's per- 
sonal knowledge, of the ''adobe wall fight," in the Pan- 
handle of Texas, just due south of Dodge, all who were 
engaged in it being formerly citizens of Dodge. In addi- 
tion I herewith give the story of one of the participants: 

"Just before sunrise on the morning of June 27th, 
1874, we were attacked by some five hundred Indians. 
The walls were defended by only fourteen guns. There 

— 204 — 



were twenty-one whites at the walls, but the other seven 
were non-combatants and had no guns. It was a thrilling 
episode, more wonderful than any ever pictured in a dime 
novel, and has the advantage over the average Indian 
story in being true, as several of the leading men of 
Dodge City can testify, who were present at the fight, 
among them being Mr, W. B. Masterson, sheriff of our 
county. 

''About three o'clock in the morning of the fight, 
several parties sleeping in the saloon of Mr James Haner- 
han were awakened by the falling in of part of the roof 
which had given way. The men awakened by the crash 
jumped up, thinking they had been attacked by Indians, 
but, discovering what was the matter, proceeded to make 
the necessary repairs. It was about daylight when 
through, and Billy Ogg went out to get the horses 
which were picketed a short distance from the house. 
He discovered the Indians, charging down from the hills, 
and immediately gave the alarm and started for the build- 
ing. The Indians charged down upon the little garrison 
in solid mass, every man having time to get to shelter 
except the two Sheidler brothers and a Mexican bull- 
whacker, who were sleeping in their w^agons a short dis- 
tance from the walls, and who were killed and their bodies 
horribly mutilated. They were just about to start for 
Dodge City, loaded with hides for Charles Rath & Com- 
pany. 

"The red devils charged right down to the doors and 
port holes of the stockade, but were met with such a 
galling fire they were forced to retire. So close were they 
that, as the brave defenders of the walls shot out of their 
port-holes, they planted the muzzles of their guns in the 
very faces and breasts of the savages, who rained a per- 
fect storm of bullets do\^n upon them. For two terrible 
hours did the Indians, who displayed a bravery and reck- 
lessness never before surpassed and seldom equalled, make 
successive charges upon the walls, each time being driven 

— 205 — 



back by the grim and determined men behind, who fired 
with a rapidity and decision which laid many a brave 
upon the ground. But two men were killed in the stock- 
ade, Billy Tyler, who was trying to draw in a wounded 
Indian, mortally wounded and lying groaning against the 
door, which, when Tyler opened it, he was shot. The 
Indian who gave Tyler his death wound was scarcely 
fifteen feet from him at the time. A man, by the name o^ 
Olds, was coming down the ladder from the lookout post, 
with his gun carelessly in front of him, and the hammer 
caught on something, the ball entering his chin and com- 
ing out the top of his head. 

''After two hours' hard fighting, the Indians with- 
drew to the hills but kept up a bombardment on the stock- 
ade for some time afterwards. In the afternoon, while 
the bullets were coming down on them like hailstones, 
Masterson, Bermuda, and Andy Johnson came out and 
found ten Indians and a negro dead ; but when the savages 
were driven in b}^ General Miles, the}^ acknowledged to 
seventy being killed, and God knows how many were 
wounded. 

**The Comanches, in the adobe wall fight, were led 
by Big Bow; the Kiowas by Lone Wolf; and the Chey- 
ennes by Minimic, Red Moon, and Gray Beard. The 
Indians, shortly afterwards, were completely subdued by 
that indefatigable Indian trailer and fighter, the gallant 
General Miles. The Miles expedition started from Dodge 
on the 6th of August, and on the 30th fought the redskins 
on Red River. Masterson, who participated in the adobe 
wall fight, went out with the expedition as a scout under 
Lieutenant Baldwin, of the gallant old Fifth Infantry, 
and was with Baldwin at the time of the capture of the 
Germain children." 

As an example of fighting of a different sort, I must 
here relate the story of a little fight between the Indians 
and hunters. Charles Rath & Company loaded a small 
mule train, belonging to the hunters, with ammunition 

— 206 — 



and guns for their hunters' store at adobe walls. When 
about half way, on the old Jones and Plummer trail, they 
were suddenly rushed by a band of Indians five times 
their number. The hunters hastily ran their wagons into 
corral shape, and turned loose on them. The Indians were 
only too glad to skedaddle, leaving several dead horses 
behind. The hunters pulled into the trail and went on, 
without losing a moment's time. The Indians killed a 
favorite buffalo pony, which was the only injury the 
hunters sustained, and they saw no more of Mr. Redskin. 

While much of the history connected with the buffalo 
is nothing but a record of hardships, fighting, and 
slaughter of various sorts, there is a brighter tinge to it, 
now and then, and sometimes its incidents are even laugh- 
able, as the story of Harris' ring performance with the 
bull buffalo, in another chapter, can testify. In many 
ways, the buffalo was much like domestic cattle in their 
nature. They could be tamed, handled, and trusted to 
the same extent. At one time, in Dodge City's early days, 
Mr. Reynolds had two very tame, two-year-old buf- 
faloes. They were so exceedingly tame and docile that 
they came right into the back yards, and poked their 
noses into the kitchen doors, for bread and other eatables. 

There came a large troupe to Dodge City, to play 
a week's engagement at our nice little opera house, just 
built. They had a big flashy band of about twenty-four 
pieces, their dress was very gaudy, indeed — like Jacob's 
coat, made up of many colors — and their instruments, 
as well as their uniforms, were very brilliant ; so much 
so that they attracted great attention, and I presume their 
flashy appearance also attracted the attention of the 
two tame buffaloes, who took exceptions to the noise and 
appearance, and they took their time and opportunity to 
resent it. 

The band leader was a great tall man, and he had a 
big bear-skin cap, a baton, and all the shiny regalia 
they generally wear. Now, as this big band was strung 

— 207 -- 



out, coming down Bridge Street, playing for all that was 
out, those two buffaloes were listening in their back yard, 
and began to snort and show other signs of restlessness. 
The band leader stepped out of the ranks, shook his baton, 
and flourished it right in the buffaloes' faces. This was 
too much — or more than the buffaloes could stand, and 
they made a vicious charge at the fellow. With heads 
lowered, they made for him, and of course he ran right 
into his band, the buffaloes following, with nostrils dis- 
tended and blood in their eyes. The waterworks had 
the street all torn up, a big ditch full of water in the 
middle of the street, and a picket fence on each side. 
On charged the buffaloes, horning and plunging into 
everything in sight. The big bass drum was thrown up 
into the air, and, as it came down, the buffaloes went for 
it, as well as for the members of the band, and such a 
scatterment you never saw. Some took the fence ; some 
took the ditch ; all threw away their instruments ; some 
had the seats of their pants town out; the drum major 
lost his big hat ; and there w^ere those who took the fence, 
roosting there on the pickets, holloing like good fellows 
to be rescued. 

Now this might have been the last of it; but that 
night, when the buffalo charge had been forgotten, and 
the band was drawn up in the street, playing in front 
of the opera house before the performance, some mis- 
chievous persons led the two buffaloes dowm, and turned 
them loose in the rear of that band, with a big send off, 
driving them right into the thickest of the band. This 
was enough. They not only threw away their instru- 
ments, but took to their heels, shouting and holloing, 
almost paralyzed with fear. 



208 



CHAPTER XI 

Joking With Powder and Ball 

As has been said, the well behaved stranger, visiting 
Dodge City in the old days, was always treated 
courteously and never molested ; on the other hand, 
however, the stranger entering town in quarrelsome, pat- 
ronizing, critical, or any other boldly flaunted mood, 
distasteful to the resident citizens, was quite likely to 
receive a SAvift and severe check to his propensities, by 
being made the butt of some prank, designed to cure 
him forever of his offensive quality. In like manner, if 
one of the resident citizens chanced to assume undue airs 
or otherwise conduct himself in a way not strictly in 
accordance with the popular idea of what was comely, 
he was a certain candidate for some practical joke which 
would speedily show him the error of his ways, and even 
punish him for it. That such pranks and jokes were 
neither gentle nor considerate of the feelings of the 
victims, need not be said. Indeed, the humor of those 
w41d days w^as often almost as startling and nerve-testing, 
as its warfare was desperate and its adventures were 
thrilling. 

Our boys were in possession of a great many Indian 
trophies which they had captured at the adobe wall fight. 
Among them were war bonnets, shields, bows and arrows, 
and quivers; and when twenty or more of them would 
don these costumes and mount their horses, also decorated 
with Indian fixings, at a short distance they appeared 
like the Simon-pure stuff. 

If a young man came to Dodge, bragging that he 
would like to participate in an Indian fight, he would 
surely get it. Once a young man, who is now a merchant 
in Kansas City, arrived, and expressed himself as eager 
to meet hostile Indians. The boys invited him to an ante- 

— 209 — 



lope hunt. Antelope were plentiful then. Young men 
in Indian costume quietly slipped out ahead. A dozen 
or more went along" with the visitor. After proceeding 
ten or twelve miles his companions commenced to brace 
the stranger up by saying: "We had better keep a sharp 
lookout. Indians have been in this vicinity lately, and 
they say they are the 'dog soldiers,' the worst on the 
plains." Then they told him a few blood-curdling stories 
about horrible atrocities, just to keep up his courage. At 
this juncture from out of the arroyo came the most 
unearthly yells, and at the same time the twenty men 
dashed out. The boaster fled precipitately, coming into 
town on the dead run, yelling to every one he saw to ge+ 
his gun ; the town would soon be attacked by a thousand 
Indians; all the other boys were killed and he had a 
narrow escape ; to send at once to the fort for the Gatling 
gun and the soldiers to defend the town, as he was sure 
they would take it if they didn't get assistance. This 
young man Avas easily scared; but one time they got thb 
wrong rooster. When they ran up close to him and com.- 
menced firing at short range, (and this man Pappard, 
of whom I spoke before, was one of those who did it) , he 
found his horse could not outrun the others and stoppevd 
ana commenced firing back. Peppard said he heard one 
bullet whiz right by his head, and had enough and quit. 
After Peppard got in, he said it was a put-up job to gei 
him killed, and Avanted to murder the whole outfit. 

Above Dodge, and nearly adjoining thereto, was a 
large marsh grown up with brush and high grass. Many 
times was the unsuspecting stranger and the young unso- 
phisticated traveling man invited to a snipe hunt, and 
with sack and lantern trudged away with bounding hopes 
and a stomach fairly yearning for the delicious feast 
awaiting him next morning at breakfast, instead of the 
tough buffalo meat. When they got to the swamp, they 
would place the traveling man on a path leading into the 
swamp, tell him to spread his sack open with a hoop, and 

— 210 — 



have his lantern at the mouth of the sack. The snipe 
would see the light and run right into the sack; and as 
soon as the sack was full, it was to h\i closed. In the 
meantime, they would go up and beat all around the 
swamp and drive the snipe down to his trap. Of course, 
they would come home and leave the traveling man hold- 
ing the sack. Some of the hunters would find their way 
back that same night ; others came in m the morning. 

Along in the early years of Dodge City's existence, 
a doctor from the east, a specialist in venereal and private 
diseases, wrote persistently to our postmaster and others, 
to know if it was not a good field for his practice. Some 
of the gang got hold of his letters and wrote him that the 
town was overrun with disease, that even our ministers 
were not free, and that more than half the people were 
suffering. Anyhow, they made out a frightful condition 
our people were in and that it had got beyond our 
physicians, and to come at once if he wanted to make a 
fortune. They signed one letter, ''Sim Dip, Ed Slump;" 
and another, "Blue Pete." 

Now, if the man had had any gumption, he would 
have known these were fictitious names, but he took the 
bait and away he came. On his arrival he hunted up 
Sim Dip and Blue Pete. Of course he was introduced to 
these gentlemen. They came to me for the key and the 
loan of the Lady Gay Theater, a large old building. At 
first I refused, but they promised to do no harm, or only 
to scare the fellow and have some fun. They printed and 
put out their notices and in the afternoon started two 
boys with bells to ring up the town, which they did 
effectually, judging by the crowd assembled that night. 
The house was crammed and jammed from the door to the 
stage. Bat Masterson was on one side of the doctor and 
Wyat Erb on the other, with Jack Bridges and other gun 
men sitting around on the stage in chairs. 

The doctor had only got on a little way in his lecture 
when some one in the audience called him a liar. He 

— 211-- 



stopped and said to Bat, "What is that? I don't under- 
stand." Bat got up, pulled his gun in front, and said: 
* 'I will kill the first man that interrupts this gentleman 
again." The lecturer had not gone much farther when 
some one again called him a vile name. Bat and Wyat 
both got up and said: ''This gentleman is a friend of 
ours, you want to understand that, and the next time he 
is interrupted we will begin shooting and we will shoot 
to kill. ' ' He had not gone much further in his talk when 
some one in the audience said, "You lie, you s — of a 
b— !" 

Bat, Wyat, and Bridges all arose and began shooting 
at the same time. First they shot out the lights and my ! 
what a stampede began. The people not only fell over 
each other, but they tumbled over each other, and rolled 
over, and trampled each other under foot. Some reached 
the doors, others took the windows, sash and all, and 
it was only a short time till darkness and quiet reigned 
in the Lady Gay. Only the smell of powder and a dense 
smoke was to be seen, coming out the windows and doors. 

There was a broken down, tin-horn gambler by the 
name of Dalton, a total wreck from morphine and whisky, 
whose avocation was a sure-thing game, and his specialty 
was robbing the stiffs (as the dead bodies were called), 
and he was an expert at this. Dalton happened to be asleep 
when this occurred, in a room back of the stage, but the 
noise and shooting awakened him. He located the place 
at once from the pistol smoke coming through the win- 
dows, and was sure there must be stiffs in the building 
after so much shooting. 

I must interpolate here, there was scarcely any one 
of that big audience who were wise to the lecture, but 
nearly all thought everything was straight and, when the 
shooting began, thought, as a matter of course, it was 
a genuine shooting scrape, and they could not get away 
from the scene of action fast enough or far enough, but 

— 212-- 



kept on running in the opposite direction and never look- 
ing back. Now this lecturer thought as the audience did 
and, as soon as the firing began, he ducked down under 
a table in front of the platform and there he lay, as still 
as a mouse, for fear someone would find him and kill 
him yet. 

Mr. Dalton crawled along the floor on his belly, hunt- 
ing the stiffs. When he came to the table, of course he 
felt the stiff underneath and proceeded to divest him of 
his wealth. But the lecturer gave one mighty spring, 
threw Dalton over to one side, and jumped up and ran 
for dear life holloing, "Murder! Thieves!" and every- 
thing else, as loud as he could bawl. Dalton, equally 
scared to have a stiff come to life and pitch him off, just 
as he was about to rob him, took to his heels the other 
way. That was the last seen of the lecturer that night; 
he sneaked off and hid out. 

The next morning Sim Dip and Blue Pete waited on 
him and told him a fine story — how sorry they were, but 
if he would stay over that night, they would assure him a 
fine audience and ample protection to his meeting, and 
he, never dreaming but what it was all on the square, 
stayed. 

The gang wanted to know of me if ten pounds of 
powder would hurt him. I told them a pound would kill 
him if it was rightly confined. This put me on my guard 
and, just before dark, I found out they were going to 
place a big lot of powder under the box on which he 
was going to lecture, and I knew it would blow him up 
and maybe kill him. So I sent to him privately and said : 
"My friend, you don't know what you are up against. 
Get on the local freight, which leaves here inside an hour, 
and never stop until you get back to your own Illinois, 
because you are not fit to be so far away from home 
without a guardian." "When the gang was certain he was 
gone, they touched a match to the fuse they had con- 
nected with the powder under the box, and blew it to 

— 213 — 



kingdom come. It went way up in the air and came down 
a mass of kindling wood. When the boys saw the result, 
they were glad they did not carry the joke any further. 

Soon after the little town of Jetmore, the county seat 
of Hodgman County, twenty-five miles north of Dodge 
City, was started, a man who resided in that neighbor- 
hood walked to Dodge. He said he came to see the sights, 
the rows, and ructions, which he had heard of, that were 
a daily occurrence in Dodge. 

After "histing" in a few big drinks that the boys 
had treated him to, he was full of Dutch courage, said 
he was wild and wooly and hard to curry, that he could 
whip his weight in wildcats, and the gang could not start 
anything too rough for him, and the sooner he got action 
the better it would suit him. He was a tall, lank, slab- 
sided galoot — one of those overgrown, loose jointed speci- 
mens of humanity, without muscle, brawn, or brains, all 
blow and bluster, and a weak coward one could see by his 
looks. 

The gang saw at once there was more chance for fun 
than a fight, and they took him in hand and treated him 
accordingly. He was very poorly dressed, his pants stuck 
down in his old boots, an old, flap-down, dirty white hat, 
and a long, dirty, drab duster for a coat. This duster 
had once been white, but was now so ragged and dirty 
you could scarce tell what color it had been. Well, it 
was not worth two bits, and his old woolen shirt was no 
better. The boys soon found him a freak from way back, 
and, as usual, the gang was flush, and you never struck 
a more liberal crowd when they had money. It was, 
' ' Come on boys ! brace up to the bar and name your 
poison," and it was their especial delight to entertain 
strangers. 

The man from Jetmore was no exception. As fast 
as one would treat him another would step to the front, 
but it was just like pouring water down a rat hole ; and, 

— 214 — 



I 



while he was drinking, someone would set his duster on 
fire, and I expect a dozen times they came near burning 
him up, until the old duster was completely used up. Of 
course, the man would rave and sw^ear and go on at a 
terrible rate, threatening the ones who set the fire with 
all kinds of punishment, if he only knew who they were. 
They then bought him a new duster, but he took it so 
hard and raised such a row that this duster shared the 
same fate as the old one, until they had bought him three 
or four. Besides burning his duster, they had all sorts 
of fun with him — had gun plays with blank cartridges, 
but of course the man didn't know they were blank, and 
they frightened him nearly to death. 

When they found there was no fight in him at all, 
they persuaded him to have these parties arrested, and, 
sure enough, they made several arrests for the man, 
appointed a sheriff, empaneled a jury, and held court 
that night in one of the principal saloons. There were 
several bright young lawyers in Dodge, and they were 
anxious for the play, and let me say right here, there was 
much wit and argument and repartee displayed on both 
sides. It was really a great treat to hear the witty argu- 
ments that each side put up, as well as the eloquence that 
flowed spontaneously from these lawyers over nothing. 
The twelve jurors were selected with all the decorum a 
regular court would exact. They were seated in chairs 
on a raised platform, they erected a rostrum for the judge, 
a box for the prisoner, and a seat for the witness. When- 
ever a good point was made by either side, someone pro- 
posed a drink for all hands; judge, jury, prisoner, and 
witness, as well as the general crowd, all planted their 
stomachs up to the bar and were helped. 

Soon, with the constant drinking, the crowd began to 
get hilarious, and began to pelt the witness, the prisoner, 
the sheriff, and the jury with eggs. They were fresh, 
(they could get no bad ones), and they kept that crowd 
dodging. First one and then another, and then the 

^215 — 



sheriff, the witness, and the jury would get it all together. 
I tell you, the eggs fell around there as thick as hail, 
and no one would seem to be hit who was looking; they 
were always taken by surprise. The judge sat there on 
his platform and just shook with laughter until the tears 
came out of his eyes. I never did see a more tickled man. 
He just enjoyed that fun more than anyone in the crowd. 
He was nicely dressed and well gotten up for the occasion, 
very slow and dignified, except when he gave way to 
laughter. 

When the egging had been going on some time, I 
took several of the boys outside and said: "This is too 
good for the judge ; why not give him some of the 
chicken pie? We're not giving him a fair deal. It is 
a shame to neglect him; he might feel offended. He 
ought to have his share of the hen fruit." The idea 
caught and they went back loaded. The judge was giving 
in his wise opinion on a point when, whang ! an egg took 
him in the forehead and then another came. He took 
out his fine, large, white silk handkerchief and said: 
''This may be real funny to you, but d — d if I see any 
fun in it. You all think yourselves mighty smart!" 
This was too much and they just showered him, pelted 
him from head to foot. He got down, put on his hat, 
and walked out as mad as a bull, and never more was 
seen down town after night. It cured him completely of 
playing his jokes. He had been, up to that time, one of 
the greatest jokers Dodge City ever had, but, while he 
delighted in playing them on others, it made him hot to 
have jokes played on him. He was one of those who 
couldn't stand a joke. He caught the writer asleep one 
day, and succeeded in handcuffing him, and I had to get 
the services of a blacksmith. Still, he was an all around 
good fellow, God bless his soul! and was beloved by 
every one who knew him. 

Among the first signal officers sent to Dodge was 
Sergeant W. W. Wimberg, an innocent, nice, polite gen- 

— 216 — 



tleman, but what a greenhorn! and he richly deserved 
the name — as green as a gourd. The gang soon got on 
to this, and what pranks they did play on him ! 

He was taking a young lady, on whom he was much 
struck, home from a dance one night, to the west part 
of the town, when the boys jumped out of a hollow and 
began firing their guns. The young lady, I think, was 
wise to the job, but Wimberg never bade that young 
lady goodnight; he stood not on the question of going, 
but, without looking to the east or west, he turned tail 
and just flew. 

Mr. A. B. Webster took it upon himself to avenge 
the insult to the lady, said his conduct was unbecoming 
an officer and a gentleman, and next day challenged the 
sergeant. He — the sergeant — took the matter up before 
the commanding officer at Fort Dodge, who was onto 
the joke and in with the boys. He promptly told Wim- 
berg he must accept the challenge and fight Webster. 
He said the dignity of the army must be maintained at 
all hazards, but referred him to General Pope, the Com- 
mander of the Department of the Missouri, at Fort Leav- 
enworth, saying he must consult the general by wire. 
The gang had the operator fixed, so when Wimberg tele- 
graphed General Pope, of course the message never went, 
but General Pope 's answer was prompt and to the point : 
*'You must fight, by all means. The dignity of the army 
must be maintained, or resign at once." Of course, the 
poor fellow was in a great dilemma, and of the two evils 
he chose the least and wrote out his resignation, when 
mutual friends interfered and stopped the duel. 

They had charades at Dodge, and the sergeant was 
generally head man. They got him to deliver a darkey 
speech, and of course he had to black up for the occasion, 
so they put shellac or some kind of substance into the 
blacking, which, when dried, could not be rubbed off 
nor washed off, and this poor fellow had to keep his 
room until the blacking wore off his face. 

^217 — 



dice they were moving a house, just outside the back 
door of which there was a large sink hole, filled with vile 
filth, and this sink was lightly covered up to stop the 
smell. An idea struck the gang, and the}^ got Wimberg 
next to this door, while right across the street opposite 
the back door they started to shooting. Some one threw 
open the back door, exclaiming, "There is murder going 
on!" Wimberg was very excited, and this was enough 
for him. He made a big jump and landed in that vile 
filth, up to his neck, and he could not get out without 
assistance. He alwaj^s was neatly dressed, but this day. 
I think he had on a Avhite suit. He was so hounded by 
these rough jokes that he asked to be changed, and the 
boys lost their game, much to their sorrow. 

Once upon a time, a long while ago, when Dodge was 
young and very wicked, there came a man to town, an 
itinerant preacher. In the present age you would call 
him an evangelist. Well, anyway, he possessed a wonder- 
ful magnetic power, he was marvelously gifted that way ; 
he w^ould cast his spell over the people, and draw crowds 
that no one ever dreamed of doing before, in fact he 
captured some of the toughest of the toughs of wicked 
Dodge, and from the very first he set his heart on the 
capture of one Dave Mathews — alias. Mysterious Dave — 
who was city marshal at the time, said to be a very 
wicked man, a killer of killers. And it was and is an 
undoubted fact that Dave had more dead men to his 
credit, at that time, than any other man in the west. 
Seven by actual count in one night, in one house, and 
all at one sitting. Indeed he was more remarkable in 
his way than the preacher was in his. 

Well, as I said, he set his heart on Dave, and he went 
after him regularly every morning, much to the disgust 
of Dave. Indeed he was so persistent, that Dave began 
to hate him. In the meantime, the people began to feel 
the power of the preacher, for he had about him an 
unexplainable something that they could not resist, and 

— 218 — 



the one little lone church was so crowded they had to 
get another bnilding, and this soon would not hold half 
the audience. Finally they got a large hall known as 
the ''Lady Gay Dance Hall" and fitted it up with boards 
laid across empty boxes for seats. There was a small 
stage at the rear of the building, and on this was placed 
a goods box for a pulpit for the preacher. Now whether 
or not Dave had become infected by the general com- 
plaint that seized the people, or whether the earnest 
persistence of the preacher had captured him I know not. 
Anyhow, certain it was, he promised the preacher to 
attend the meeting that night, and certain it was, Dave 
would not break his word. He was never known to do 
that. If he promised a man he would kill him, Dave was 
sure to do it. 

It was soon noised around by the old "he pillars" of 
the church, and the "she pillars" too that Dave was 
captured at last, and what a crowd turned out that night 
to see the wonderful work of God brought about through 
the agency of the preacher — the capture of Mysterious 
Dave. 

Soon the hall was filled to its utmost capacity, and 
Dave, true to his promise, was seen to enter. He was at 
once conducted to the front, and given the seat of honor 
reserved for him in front of the preacher, and Oh! how 
that preacher preached straight at him. He told how 
wonderful was the ways of Providence in softening the 
heart of wicked Dave Mathews, and what rejoicing there 
would be in heaven over the conversion of such a man. 
Then he appealed to the faithful ones the old "he pillars" 
of the church, and said to them, now he was ready to die. 
He had accomplished the one grand object of his life. 
He had converted the wickedest man in the country, and 
was willing now and at once to die, for he knew he 
w^ould go right straight to heaven. Then he called upon 
the faithful ones to arise and give in their experience, 
which they did, each one singly, and said, they too, like 

— 219 — 



the preacher, were willing to die right now and here, for 
they knew that they too would go right straight to heaven 
for helping to carry out this great work. In fact, most 
of them said, like the preacher, that they wanted to die 
right now so they could all go to heaven -rejoicing 
together. Dave sat there silent with bowed head. He 
told me afterwards, he never in all his scrapes was in 
such a hot box in his life. He said he would much rather 
to have been in a hot all around fight with a dozen fel- 
lows popping at him all at once, than to have been there. 
He said he would have been more at ease, and felt more 
at home, and I expect he told the truth. 

Finally he raised to his feet and acknowledged he 
had been hard hit and the bullet had struck a vital spot, 
and at last religion had been poured into him; that he 
felt it tingling from his toes through his whole body, 
even to his finger tips, and he knew he had religion now 
sure, and if he died now would surely go to heaven, and 
pulling both of his six shooters in front of him, he said 
further, for fear that some of the brothers here tonight 
might backslide and thereby lose their chance of heaven 
he thought they had better all die tonight together as 
they had so expressed themselves, and the best plan he 
said would be for him to kill them all, and then kill 
himself. Suddenly jerking out a pistol in each hand, he 
said to the preacher, "I will send you first," firing over 
the preacher's head. Wheeling quickly he fired several 
shots into the air, in the direction of the faithful ones. 

The much frightened preacher fell flat behind the 
dry goods box, as also did the faithful ones who ducked 
down as low as they could. Then Dave proceeded to shoot 
out the lights, remarking as he walked towards the door, 
''You are all a set of liars and frauds, you don't want 
to go to heaven with me at all." This broke up the 
meeting, and destroyed the usefulness of that preacher in 
this vicinity. His power was gone, and he departed for 

— 220 — 



new fields, and I am sorry to relate, the people went back 
to their backsliding and wickedness. 

Notwithstanding the general tone of these stories, all 
the joking of early days did not revolve around the six 
shooter and cartridge belt. Sometimes a widely differ- 
ent instrument of administration was choosen, though the 
methods of administrating never varied; it was ever 
direct, vigorous, and practically merciless. 

In the first years of Dodge City a merchant in the 
town had a government hay contract. He was also sutler 
at the fort. There was also a saloon keeper who kept the 
best billiard hall in the town, an Irishman, and a clever 
fellow, whom the officers preferred to patronize, by the 
name of Moses Waters. Now, this Waters was full of 
jokes, and a fighter from away back. The officers made 
his saloon their headquarters when they came to Dodge, 
but, as a general thing, upon their arrival, they sent for 
the sutler and had him go the rounds with them — a 
chaperon they deemed essential, lest they might get 
into difficulties, and the sutler was as eager to have their 
company as they were to have him along. One evening 
about dark the post sutler came into Dodge from his ha.y 
camp to purchase a suit of clothes suitable for camp 
service. Waters, in passing along Front street, saw the 
sutler trying on the suit, and an idea struck him. He 
went immediately to his saloon, wrote a note to the sutler, 
as he had often seen the officers do, presenting his com- 
pliments, and requesting his presence at once at his 
saloon. The buildings on Front street were all low, frame 
shanties with porches. On the corners of the porch 
roofs were placed barrels of water in case of fire, and 
the sutler had to pass under these porches to get to 
Water's saloon. As soon as he was properly rigged out 
in his new outfit, he hurried to Water's saloon to meet 
his officer friends, as he supposed, not suspecting any 
danger, of course. But no sooner had he passed under 
one of these porches on the corner, than a barrel of 

— 221 — 



water was dashed over him, nearly knocking him down, 
wetting him to the skin, and nearly drowning him. He 
knew as soon as he had recovered his breath, and as he 
heard the parties running over the roof to the rear of 
the building and jumping to the ground, what had hap- 
pened and what was up. 

When he reached Water's saloon there was a crowd, 
looking as innocent as could be, and saying, "Come in 
and wet your new clothes," which was a common custom. 
"Yes," the sutler said, "I will wet them. Barkeep, set 
up the drinks. It is all right, and I am going to get even. ' ' 
There were, of course, no officers in sight. 

Some time previous to this. Waters, who had a lot of 
horses, and some fine ones by the way, had built him a 
large barn and painted it blood red. He took great pride 
in this barn, more on account of its color than anything 
else. He had cut out in front of each stall a place large 
enough for a horse to get his head through, to give the 
horse air and light. Waters had an Englishman, a very 
fine hostler, to attend his horses. One day, soon after the 
incident mentioned above, a tall, finely built young Mis- 
sourian came to the sutler, as was frequently the case, 
and asked for work. The sutler said, "Yes, I can give 
you work. Can you whitewash?" He said, "I can beat 
the man who invented whitewashing." The sutler got 
two old-fashioned cedar buckets, holding about three 
gallons each, and two whitewashing brushes, a short and 
a long-handled one. "Now," said the sutler, "I w^ant 
you to mix these buckets full and thick, and go down to 
that red stable (showing him the stable), and plaster it 
thick wdth whitewash. I painted it red, but everyone 
seems to dislike the color, and I want it changed. But, 
say, there is a crazy Irishman, by the name of Waters, 
who imagines he owns the stable. He may come around 
and try to give you some trouble. If he does, don't give 
him any gentle treatment. Use him as rough as you can. 
Smash him with your whitewash brush, and if you can 

— 222 — 



put a whitewash bucket over his head and nearly drown 
him, I will pay you two dollars extra. Try and do this 
an3^way, and I will pay you more for it than for doing 
the job of whitewashing." 

Soon after the talk, off went the big Missourian with 
his whitewash buckets and brushes. There was a strong 
w^est wind blowing, so he commenced on the east side of 
the barn. He went at it like he was mauling rails, and 
was doing a fine job. The Englishman was shut up 
inside, giving the horses their morning scrubbing. At last 
he was attracted by the continual knocking of the brush 
against the stable. In the meantime quite a crowd had 
gathered, looking on at the curious spectacle of the big 
Missourian whitewashing the stable. At last the English- 
man poked out his head, demanding of the Missourian: 
''What the bloody 'ell are you doing, anyway?" Down 
comes the Missourian 's brush on the face and head of the 
Englishman, while at the same time he said that the man 
who gave him the job told him that an ignorant Irishman 
would try to stop him. This was too much for the 
Englishman, who went across the street to Water's room, 
dripping all over with whitewash. 

Waters being a saloonkeeper and compelled to be up 
late at night, slept late in the morning, and was still in 
bed. Waters could hardly believe the Englishman's story, 
that anyone would dare whitewash his beautiful red barn. 
But he put on his pants, slippers, and hat, and went over 
to see. Waters was a fighter — in fact, he was something 
of a prize-fighter, and was a powerful and heavy-set man, 
and did not think he could be whipped. The reason the 
Missourian got such an advantage of him. Waters told me 
afterwards, was because he was trying to get up to him as 
close as possible so that he could give him a knock-out 
blow. But the Missourian was too quick for him. Waters 
approached the Missourian very slowly and deliberately, 
talking to him all the while in a very mild and persuasive 
way, but when he was almost within striking distance the 

— 223 — 



Missourian put the bucket of whitewash over his head. 
It almost strangled "Waters, and he had to buck and back 
and squirm to shake the bucket off. When he did, and 
had shaken the whitewash out of his eyes, nose, and 
mouth, what a fight began. The young Missourian was a 
giant, but Waters was more skilled by training. Still 
they had it, rough and tumble, for a long time, first 
Waters on top and then the Missourian. Finally, the 
Missourian found that Waters was getting the best of it, 
and, with a desperate effort, threw Waters to one side, 
tore loose, and made for the government reservation, 
only a few hundred yards distant, followed closely by 
Waters, amid great cheering by the crowd. It was indeed 
laughable, the Missourian in the lead, beating the ground 
with his big feet and long legs, with all the vim and 
energy he possessed, and as if his life depended on the 
race (and perhaps it did), followed by the low, squatty 
figure of Waters in his shirt sleeves and slippers, minus 
hat and coat with the whitewash dripping from him at 
every point, and tearing down with equal energy, as if 
his life, too, depended upon the race. The race of the 
two men presented a most laughable scene, too ludicrous 
for anything. They both seemed determined on the issue, 
but the long legs of the Missourian were evidently too 
much for Water's short ones, and he finally abandoned 
the chase. 

There is nothing further to the story, except that the 
sutler had to hide out for a few days, until mutual friends 
could bring in a white flag and agree upon terms of 
peace. 

I have related enough to show that the spirit of 
practical joking and raillery was very prevalent in south- 
western, frontier days. Most of it was good natured and 
meant to be harmless; but I must confess that there was 
scarcely anything too sacred to be made the butt of a 
joke, if the trend of inclination turned that way. Even 

— 224 — 



love, instead of being a serious matter, was often treated 
as a joke and laughed into materialization or renunci- 
ation, as the case might be. The following love letter of 
the times, might have been written en route on the Texas 
drive, or by the camp fire in a buffalo hunter's camp: 

"Dearest: — 

"My love is stronger than the smell of coffee, patent 
butter, or the kick of a young cow. Sensations of 
exquisite joy go through me like chlorite of ant through 
an army cracker, and caper over my heart like young 
goats on a stable roof. I feel as if I could lift myself 
by my boot straps to the height of a church steeple, or 
like an old stage horse in a green pasture. As the mean 
purp hankers after sweet milk, so do I hanker after your 
presence. And as the goslin' swimmeth in the mud pud- 
dle, so do I swim in a sea of delightfulness when you are 
near me. My heart flops up and down like cellar doors 
in a country town ; and if my love is not reciprocated, I 
will pine away and die like a poisoned bed-bug, and you 
can come and catch cold on my grave. ' ' 



— 225 



CHAPTER XII 

When Conviviality was tlie Fashion and the Rule 

Those were days of hard drinking as well as hard 
riding and hard fighting. The man who did not drink in 
some degree, was regarded as something of a freak, and 
as lacking the social spirit. Stories innumerable, tragic, 
pathetic, humorous, may be told of Dodge City and her 
people, showing the place that intoxicants filled in the 
life of the time and place, and with their plots centering 
around the glass and the bar of the frontier saloon. 

In the early days of Dodge, the town was often visited 
by a traveling man whom we will call Thomas Smith, who 
is now a very wealthy Christian gentleman, worth a mil- 
lion, and now making amends for his early debauches by 
charitable work, teaching poor boys the way they should 
go. This salesman would always put up at the Dodge 
House, and when he had finished his rounds among his 
customers and finished his work, he would proceed to 
get on his usual drunk. His firm would wire Mr. Cox, 
proprietor of the hotel, to take care of him until he 
recovered from his spree and send them his bill. Of 
course he had hosts of friends, as he was a fine fellow 
as well as salesman, when sober. 

The hotel was built clear through to the other street 
and, in building back, the floor at the rear was below the 
surface of the ground, as it was a little up-hill from the 
front of the house, and this placed the windows of the 
back part level with the ground. Now, Tom was in one 
of these rooms with the window level with the ground, 
and of course the window was exposed. Tom was getting 
a little over his spree. He had been seeing snakes. 

Mr. Kelly had a large black bear, a tremendous fel- 
low. He had broken his chain in the night, and crawled 
into Tom's window and gotten under the bed. Tom 

— 226 — 



had been given an opiate the night before, and of course 
he was dead to all noises until the effects of the drug 
wore off. But about breakfast time, Mr. Bear turned 
over and groaned. This raised Tom up in the bed and, 
at the same time, the bear's chain rattled. Tom said to 
himself, "My God! have I got 'em again?" But Mr. 
Bear made another move which lifted Tom up again. 
This was too much. He jumped out of bed, hastily lifted 
the bed clothes, and there was Mr. Bear, staring him in 
the face, yawning, and rattling his chain. Tom gave one 
tremendous scream and rushed for the dining room. 

Breakfast was in full blast at the time, the room 
crowded with guests, and with six girl waitresses. When 
Tom rushed in in his night gown, he tripped and fell 
over one of the girls, with a waiter full of dishes. Of 
course they both went down together, and of all the 
screaming and holloing, and rushing out of that dining 
room, was a caution. 

Another time Tom got on one of his sprees at Cald- 
well, Kansas, another wild and wooly cattle town like 
Dodge, and the boys hired a trained monkey, from an 
organ grinder, and put it in his room one morning before 
day. Tom was convalescing and they thought a big scare 
would do him good and maybe break him of his sprees. 
Tom was awakened about breakfast time, with the 
monkey sitting right over him at the head of his bed, 
where the boys had placed him, chattering away and 
cutting up all kinds of monkey tricks. Tom said he was 
sure he had them again. But recollecting his six-shooter, 
he went to his suitcase, got it out, and said : ' ' Old fellow, 
if you ain't a monkey, I am in a bad fix ; but if you are a 
monkey, you sure are in a h — 1 of a fix." Then he took 
good aim and fired. Down came Mr. Monkey, and the 
boys lost a hundred dollars and the joke was on them. 

Bobby Gill was one of the most notorious characters 
and was the best all-around "sure thing" man that ever 

— 227 — 



struck Dodge City. He was up-to-date in all the tricks 
of the trade, and was capable of working all the various 
devices known to the brotherhood, from the opening of 
a spring match safe to the gold brick proposition. He 
had the brains to use them all, but whisky was what 
caused his downfall. He could not keep away from it. 
At one time, he abstained from drinking for a week. He 
came across the ''dead line," where he had been staying 
to keep from drinking, and was very "blue," down- 
hearted, and nervous. When he reached the precincts of 
the ''gang," he was subjected to the ridicule, "kidding," 
and taunts of the fellows. It was a cold snowy morning, 
and the river was out of its banks and full of immense 
cakes of floating ice and a quarter of a mile wide. Bobby 
said to the "jokesmiths," "Kid as much as you please, 
but it takes more nerve to stop drinking when in the con- 
dition in which I have been, than it does to go down to 
the river now, strip, and swim across to the other bank." 
I believed him. I can sympathize with such a man because 
I have been in the same condition myself. He was right 
and I knew he told the truth. 

One of the many times he was before the police court 
was due to hard luck. He was clear down and out of 
pocket and friends. One could discover a kindly feeling 
for him, for, as a general thing, when a man plays in 
such hard luck, no matter what his antecedents, one can't 
help pitying him. One's heart goes out to him, and so it 
was in this case. The sentence was twenty dollars and 
costs. The marshal said, "Well, so far as I am concerned, 
I am willing to throw off my costs;" the clerk said, "I 
will do the same;" and the judge said, "So will I. Mr. 
Gill, what have you got to say for yourself?" He 
promptly jumped up and, quick as a flash, and said, "Your 
Honor, I never was yet out-done in generosity, and I will 
not be in this case ; I will throw off the fine. " It is 
needless to say that he never paid any fine. 

— 228 — 



One day Bobby was in the Long Branch saloon sleep- 
ing off a big drunk. There was a ledge of wood all 
around the room about three and a half feet from the 
floor. Bobby had his chair tilted back and his head 
resting on this ledge, with a broad-brimmed Stetson hat 
half over his face. We put a line of powder along on 
this ledge, from the door to where Bobby was sleeping 
(which was quite a distance from the door), and near his 
head we placed a full quarter of a pound of the powder, 
pulled his hat well over his face to thoroughly protect it, 
and stationed several men in the saloon with six-shooters, 
and the large tin pan, used for making large quantities of 
''Tom and Jerry," was so placed that the most noise 
possible could be made when it was hit with a club by a 
man. The signal was given and the powder touched off, 
the six-shooters were fired, and the clubbing of the tin 
pan began while the bar and tables were hammered with 
billiard cues. Imagine the noise and confusion. 

The smoke from the burned powder was so dense that 
one could scarcely see. Bobby made a dive for the door 
and cleared the way before him. There were some men 
sitting around the big stove; Bobby ran right over them 
and, when he encountered a chair, he just threw it over 
his shoulder and continued his flight. He said afterwards 
he had been dreaming about fire and, when the racket 
began, he imagined that he was in a burning building, 
from which all but himself had escaped, and he could see 
the burning rafters falling down upon him. He never 
opened his eyes but once, and never stopped running until 
he was home, on the other side of the railroad track. This 
was one good treatment for him and his complaint, and he 
was not over on the north side again for a month. He 
was afraid we would kill him and he actually believed so. 

Bobby himself was a great practical joker. Once he 
secured a large queensware crate that would just com- 
fortably fill a wagon box, and standing some four feet 
high. In this crate, with the assistance of Kinch Riley, 

— 229 — 



lie placed Jim Dalton, a notorious booze fiend, who was 
in a helpless state of intoxication. They covered this 
crate with an ample tarpaulin, entirely concealing the 
contents from view. Attaching a team of mules to the 
wagon, they drove up Main Street, stopping in front of 
each saloon for exhibition purposes: 

Bobby acted as crier and opened the proceedings by 
shouting: "Come, everybody! this is the golden oppor- 
tunity. We have here on exhibition, concealed under 
this tarpaulin, the greatest living curiosity — the only 
living specimen of man and brute combined, captured in 
the wilds of the Ozark mountains in infancy, and reared 
to his present physical state on the bottle, which has been 
the only nourishment he was ever known to take. For 
countless centuries, scientists have searched in vain for a 
living specimen of this lost link. Gentlemen, it has been 
the good fortune of my scientific co-worker, Professor 
Riley, to discover, hidden in the sand hills, this long 
sought specimen. We have a living proof of the Dar- 
winian theory of the origin of man, and it is my pleasure, 
gentlemen and ladies (if you are ladies), to be in a 
position to prove to you, by ocular demonstrations, the 
truthfulness of my assertions, for the small sum of one 
iron dollar — four quarters, two halves, or ten dimes turn 
the trick, and, while I pass the hat around, Professor Riley 
will take the pole and stir up this monstrosity. ' ' 

Kinch would then stagger around to the off-side and 
proceed to stir up the living specimen by vigorously prod- 
ding him, in the mid-section, Avith a broom stick. The 
sports would ''chip in," and soon the necessary dollar was 
raised, the tarpaulin would be removed, and the fun 
would begin. Bobby would order a 'Svhisky sour" for 
himself and Kinch, and they would slowly sip the nectar, 
in plain view of poor parched Dalton, who would plead 
for just a taste. 

After going through this program at several of the 
booze resorts, Dalton became frantic with thirst — as crazy 

— 230 — 




H. L. Sttler 
One of the Seven Old Timers of Dodge City 



as a loon. Bobby was deaf to his pleadings for a long 
while; in fact, he didn't relent until the last saloon had 
been worked. Then, in a maudlin tone, he ordered Kinch 
to feed the specimen. Kinch had an empty tobacco bucket 
handy, and a small force pump with hose attached. Turn- 
ing this on poor Dalton, he soused him with several 
buckets of water. 

The performance then closed, and Bobby and Kinch 
mounted the wagon and started over the "dead line" 
with their living curiosity. Their frequent libations of 
"lemon sours" had all but knocked them out, and they 
were much worse off than Dalton, who, through their 
heroic treatment, was now in a fairly sober condition. In 
crossing the railroad track, Dalton worked a bottom board 
loose and dropped to the road, the wheels miraculously 
missed him, and he got up none the worse for the drop. 
Bobby and Kinch were slowly plodding along, ignorant 
of Dalton 's escape, when, suddenly, they were brought 
to a realization of the situation by a bombardment of 
rocks, at short range, from Dalton. In dodging the missies 
so ruthlessly hurled at them, they lost their balance, and 
both fell off the wagon, and the mules proceeded leisurely 
on their way to their barn. 

Bobby had thoughtfully provided himself with a bot- 
tle of whisky, from the proceeds of the show, and, 
instantly regaining his feet, he produced the bottle and 
called for an armistice. Holding the bottle aloof, he 
served notice on Dalton that, if hostilities did not cease 
immediately, he would place the bottle in range of the 
flying missies, and there would be a wanton waste of 
valuable property ; but if Dalton would call off the attack, 
they would adjourn to the Green Front and properly 
appropriate the contents of the bottle in their usual 
good old convivial way. It is needless to say that hostili- 
ties ceased at once, and a happy reconciliation was 
effected among the three. 

—.231 — 



Of a somewhat different nature from the treatment 
accorded Dalton, but equally heroic, was a "Dodge City 
Keeley Cure," administered to one of the convivial citi- 
zens. 

In the bright, halcyon days of Dodge City, there dwelt 
a lawyer in our midst ,who was quite badly crippled, but 
he had a bright mind and was a good lawyer. He, unfor- 
tunately, was addicted to the liquor habit, and his earn- 
ings were spent for whisky. He neglected his wife and 
children, and his conduct was such as to become a disgrace 
to the civilization of Dodge City, so the boys concluded 
to put a stop to it. 

One bright summer morning, this lawyer was drink- 
ing heavily, in one of the principal and most public saloons 
in the town, on Front Street, where everyone could see 
inside, as they passed, as there was a door on each street, 
the saloon being on the corner of two streets. 

The fellows that decided to administer this dose of the 
"Dodge City Keeley Cure" to the lawyer, waited until he 
was surcharged with booze, which they knew would soon 
be accomplished. He attempted to leave the bar, but fell 
in a drunken stupor. The boys then procured a coffin, 
attired him in a conventional shroud, prepared him as 
carefully as though they were preparing him for the long 
sleep, except embalming him, powdered his features to 
give him the ghastly appearance of death, tied his jaws 
together, and then placed him in the coffin and placed 
the coffin on a table between the two doors, where he lay 
"in state," and in view of passersby. 

Many persons thought he was really dead and pla- 
carded him with these emotional and reverential lines : 

"Judge Burns is dead, that good old soul, 

We ne^er shall see him more, 

We never more shall see his face. 

Nor hear his gentle roar (in police court), saying, 

' Guilty, your Honor ! ' " 

— 232 — 



He remained in the coffin, in full view, for several 
hours before he awakened. He was a hideous sight, and, 
after looking in the mirror, he went home completely dis- 
gusted with himself, sobered up, and was never known 
to take a drink in Dodge City afterwards. He became 
one of our most respected citizens, and held several offices 
of honor and trust. This was a profitable lesson to him, 
and proved very beneficial to his family and the com- 
munity. 

While the above is highly recommended to those need- 
ing the Keeley cure, it is not guaranteed to cure all cases. 
It depends on the mental and physical make-up of the 
individual. We tried the same treatment on a prominent 
hotel man, the best landlord Dodge City ever had, but it 
was not successful in his case. When he recovered, he 
jumped out of his coffin, shook off his winding sheet, and 
proceeded to the bar, with an invitation to all the boys to 
have a drink. 

Truth is stranger than fiction, and, to illustrate, the 
following story of early days in Dodge is related. Every 
word of this is positively true. 

In the last palmy days of Dodge, when the end of her 
magnificent career of wealth, gambling, dance halls, 
gilded houses of ill fame, fascinating music, and the quick, 
sharp bark of the six-shooter were about over, there still 
clung to her a shadow of her past greatness. Mr. Charles 
Heins was one of the leaders, and what a great caterer 
he was, to the palates of those who had wealth and were 
willing to purchase. There was nothing too good or too 
rich for his larder, and he found customers, lots of them, 
at outrageous prices for the goods, of course. Among 
other things of the past, he still kept up his bar and 
magnificent stock of liquors, although to do so was almost 
certain imprisonment. He hid his bar, from the officers 
of the law, in every conceivable place, and the ingenuity 
he displayed in keeping out of their clutches was won- 
derful. At last he placed his bar in a dark cellar, but 

— 233 — 



he had exhausted his supply of bar keepers, so he had to 
resort to most anyone, until he got a Frenchman who 
could speak no English. 

The gang soon got on to the ignorance of the bar 
keeper, and played many a prank on him, and they finally 
got to passing counterfeit dollars, some a good imitation 
made of lead. Now Skinner and Kelly had opened up an 
opposition joint, around the corner, a few doors below 
Heins' place. Heins had a natural hatred for Skinner, 
and when he opened up in opposition, Heins' hatred was 
much greater. 

By the way, Skinner set a fine ''Dutch lunch," every 
day, from eleven o'clock to two p. m. This proceeding 
Heins hated cordially. Once in awhile I would go down 
to Skinner and Kelly's for my lunch and a glass of beer, 
instead of going home for my dinner. One rainy, cold 
day, I started for my Dutch lunch and glass of beer 
about one o'clock, and saw Heins standing in his door, 
tossing up a counterfeit silver dollar. I said to Heins : 
''Give me that, and I will go down celler and pass it on 
your Frenchman." "Not on your life," he said, "The 
Frenchman has had lots of them passed on him, and this 
is one of his take-ins." "Well," I said, "I will take it 
down and pass it on Bill Skinner." "My God!" he said, 
"if you will do that, come back and I will set up the 
drinks for the whole house." 

Kelly had been tending bar while Skinner went to 
dinner, and, just as I got in, Kelly was shifting his bar 
apron and handing it to Skinner to put on, preparatory 
for Skinner to go on duty behind the bar. I noticed that 
all the Dutch lunch was gone, and I said: "What has 
become of your lunch?" Kelly spoke up and said, "Why, 
old John Shults came in, wet and almost frozen to death, 
said he had beat his way from Garden City to Dodge in 
a leaky box car, and was as wet as a drowned rat. He got 
a few glasses of beer, and ate everything in sight, but 

— 234 — 



still said he was hungry, and inquired for a restaurant. I 
don't suppose he had eaten anything since he left here last 
night." 

I invited the house up, and they all took beer, and I 
handed Skinner the counterfeit. He served the beer, and, 
without looking at the dollar, threw it on the back bar 
with the day's receipts, and gave me the change. I sat 
and talked with them for awhile, and invited the crowd 
to drink again, then went back to Heins who was tickled 
to death about it, and we went below and got our beer. 
Just before starting back up, however, the bell boy came 
after Heins, saying there was a Dutchman upstairs who 
insisted on seeing him on particular business. Heins said, 
''Stay, and I will be back soon." 

Now it seemed the night before, a short time before 
the passenger went west, John Shults came in pretty full 
of booze, as was his normal condition when in Dodge City, 
and asked Charley Heins to change a five dollar bill. 
Heins had four good silver dollars and this same counter- 
feit dollar. Heins said to Shults, "I can't do it — haven't 
got the change." ''Oh, yes, you have," said Shults, "I 
see five dollars in your drawer." "Yes, but," Heins said, 
"one of those is counterfeit." Of course, Shults thought 
he was joking, and said, "Heinsy, I know you would not 
give me a counterfeit." Heins replied, "No, that is the 
reason I can't change your bill." Shults said, "Give it 
to me anyway; now I know you would not cheat me." 
Heins said, "Well, if you insist on it, here goes," and gave 
him the four good dollars and the counterfeit. You see, 
Shults had made several trips to Garden, having business 
with the land office there, and he had learned to work the 
conductor. The fare to Garden was one dollar and a half, 
and Shults would give the conductor a dollar and swear 
that was all the money he had, and he was such an 
"onery" looking cuss, the conductor would believe him 

— 235 — 



and take Mm on. This was the reason Shults was so 
anxious to get the bill changed; he would save half a 
dollar. 

Heins came back laughing and tickled to death. He 
said to the bar keeper, ''Set them up to the house again, 
for this is too good; I have heard from the counterfeit 
already." "When he went up, John Shults was there, hold- 
ing the same old counterfeit in his hand, and he said : 
"Hensy, you know last night you gave me a counterfeit, 
didn't you?" Heins said, "Yes, but John, a little after 
you gave me the bill to change, you came back, and I took 
back the counterfeit and gave you a good dollar in its 
place, didn't I?" "Yes, but Heinsy, how the h — did I 
get dot?" showing the counterfeit in his hand. "Heinsy, 
there could not have been two of them, could there?" 
"No, John, only one, only one." "Well, Heinsy, you 
couldn't give me a good one for this now, could you?" 
"No, John, I could not." "Well, Heins, what's de mad- 
der wid it, anyhow? I know you gave me dis dollar." 
"Yes, I did, but I gave you a good one in place of it." 
And Heins said he begged so hard to have one that he had 
to leave him, or he was afraid he would give him a good 
dollar. 

It seems, after Heins changed the bill for Shults, the 
night before, Shults went down to Skinner's joint and 
ordered a glass of beer, offering this same counterfeit 
dollar in payment. Skinner was very angry, because he 
had been a victim of counterfeit dollars himself, and he 
took his knife and put a private mark on the dollar, and 
gave it back to Shults, with a big cussing, and warned 
him not to try to pass one on him again or he would beat 
him to death. 

Kelly had been tending bar while Skinner went to 
dinner, as I said before, and, when I left. Skinner began 
to look over the receipts of the day, on the back of the 
bar, and discovered this counterfeit. He at once blamed 
Kelly, and said: "Here, Kelly, you have taken in a bad 

— 236 — 



dollar." ''Yes," said Kelly, ''that is so. I am not fit to 
do business any more in here ; I make a failure of every- 
thing." "Who was in here?" said Skinner. "Why," 
Kelly said, "No one; it is a very bad day, and there has 
been no trade." "Why," Skinner said, "who ate up all 
that lunch?" Kelly said, "By the hokey, old John Shults, 
and he gave me a silver dollar." Skinner said, "Where 
did he go ? I want to get at him. He is the drunken bloat 
who tried to pass it on me last night. It is the same 
dollar; see where I marked it? And I told him then I 
would beat him to death, if ever he attempted to pass it 
on us again. Where did you say he went?" "Over to 
your brother 's restaurant upstairs, ' ' replied Kelly. 

Skinner rushed out without coat or hat, and caught 
Shults just as he was about to get down from one of those 
very high chairs, they have for counter lunches. He 
caught him by the back of the collar and hurled him vio- 
lently against the floor. Before the man could get up, 
Skinner was on him, kicking and stomping him with both 
feet. Shults was helpless, and so completely taken by 
surprise it paralyzed him, but this did not stop Skinner, 
who kicked, stomped, and beat until he was worn out. 
The beating he got would have killed a common man, but 
old John was as tough as a pine knot and soon got over 
it. They say it was amusing to hear John holler and 
plead. "Ho (lam) ! Ho (lam) !" he said: "You got the 
wrong man! I do nottings to you! Why you do dot? 
Ho (lam) ! Ho (lam) ! Stop it ! I quit you ; stop it ! I 
tell you, I quit you!" Skinner would answer, "You see 
that dollar?" "Yes, I see; I know where you get him." 
"You know where I get him?" and he would go after him 
again, and, when he was completely worn out, he handed 
Shults the dollar and called for a good one, which request 
Shults was too glad to comply with, for fear of another 
beating. As a matter of fact, if Shults had only had the 
courage and had known it, he cculd have turned in and 

— 237 — 



beat Skinner just as hard, as Skinner acknowledged after- 
wards that he had completely worn himself out. 

These stories, in connection with other passages in 
this book, will give some idea of the position strong drink 
occupied in the early life of southwestern Kansas, and the 
almost universal popularity which the social glass enjoyed. 
Eventually, it was my fortune to become representative 
of this section in the state legislature, in which I was 
serving when the prohibition bill was introduced, in 1881. 
I must say that I think that prohibition has proved a 
good thing for the state, but, at that time, with such 
constituents behind me, I could not consistently support 
the temperance bill. I soon saw, however, that it was 
going through and that it was useless to fight it, so I con- 
tented myself with having the consoling "last word," 
on the subject, my short speech being the last made before 
the bill was put to vote. My remarks were not intended 
as argument, but merely as a mildly satirical fling at the 
opposing faction, and put a flavor of the burlesque upon 
the situation. But the threat to secede, while not meant 
seriously, was not without point, as the territory in 
sympathy with that I represented, forming one section for 
judicial purposes, comprised thirty-eight of our present 
counties. The "Topeka Daily Commonwealth," of Feb- 
ruary 16th, 1881, says, "Honorable R. M. Wright delivered 
the following witty speech on the temperance bill in the 
House yesterday," and reports it thus: 

"Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen of the Committee: 

"I feel that I would be doing my constituents a grave 
injustice were I to remain silent at this most portentous 
juncture in the history of our legislation. I cannot 
refrain, therefore, from raising my feeble voice in protest 
against this monstrous measure. I do not oppose this 
bill because of my own love for the distilled nectar of 
the cornfield, nor yet for the purple ambrosia of the vine- 
yard. I admit that I like a glass of either now and then, 

— 238 — 




G. M. H(M)\KU 
Banker and One of the Seven Old Timers of Dodge City 



but I am not a slave to the demon of the cup, and I can 
look upon the wine when it is red without necessarily 
being bitten by the adder which is alleged to be lurking 
at the bottom of the said utensil. In fact, Mr. Chairman, 
so great is my virtue in this direction, that I have gone 
three, aye four days, without my whisky, and I am proud 
to relate without any special disturbing effects upon my 
physiological structure, but it is a dangerous experiment, 
and should not be tried too often. Sir, I have been a resi- 
dent of this great state for seventeen years and I have 
learned to know it, and to know it is to love it. I know 
no other home. I love its broad prairies, its rich soil, its 
pure air, its beautiful streams, and last, but not least, 
its liberal people. But alas, sir, if this bill becomes a law, 
I am afraid I shall cease to be one of the citizens of this 
proud commonwealth, as the county which I have the 
honor to represent on this floor threatens to secede and 
take with it all the unorganized counties attached to it 
for judicial purposes. Now, sir, under the peculiar cir- 
cumstances of their situation, have they not a just and 
equitable cause for their professed action? Sir, this com- 
mittee well knows, or if there are any of its members who 
do not I deplore their ignorance, that the section of the 
country in which I live is essentially the habitation of 
that most poisonous of all reptiles of the genus Crotalus, 
or in common parlance, as he is familiarly known to the 
cowboys — the rattlesnake. This insect, gentlemen of the 
committee, is not the phantasmagorial creature, if I may 
use the term, which perhaps many of you have seen when 
you have "histed' too much rock and rye on board, but 
a genuine tangible nomad of the prairie, whose ponderous 
jaws, when once fastened on the calf of your leg, you will 
realize is no creature of the disordered brain. This octo- 
pod, this old man of the prairie, if you will permit me to 
indulge in a metaphor, has all his life obeyed the spiritual 
injunction (I am sorry I have not my little pocket Bible 
here to prove this, as many of the members of this com- 

— 239 — 



mittee have done in discussing this question) to increase 
and multiply, and accordingly he multiplyeth extraordi- 
narily, and he doeth this without irrigation either, and 
in fact every farmer has an abundant crop without the 
trouble of cultivation. Now, sir, the only known pre- 
ventive, the only known antidote to the venom of this 
venomous beast, is pure unadulterated corn juice, vul- 
garly called whisky. Aye, sir, men who have imbibed 
freely of the corn juice have been bitten, and the snake 
has always been known to die instead of the man, so you 
see it is not only a sure cure for the bite but is a speedy 
means of getting rid of the snake also. 

'* Ponder, oh, gentlemen of the committee, and hesi- 
tate before you take away from us that which saves life. 
Are you aware of what you are about to do? Do you 
propose in this arbitrary manner not only to deprive us 
of a source of solace but even to take our very lives ? My 
people, sir, will never submit, never (No Pinafore here.) 
[This was in the days of Pinafore.] 

*'Now, sir, the only way out of this labyrinth of pro- 
posed injustice is to exclude Dodge 'City as well as all 
that region west of the one-hundredth meridian from the 
provisions of this bill. If you do this it will not only be 
an act of justice guaranteed by the constitution upon 
stern necessity, but will receive the rightous judgment 
of all the citizens of Dodge; harmony will again prevail 
upon the border, the scouts will be called in, and future 
generations of cowboys will arise and call you blessed." 

In the spring of 1885, preparations were made for the 
enforcement of the Prohibitory Liquor Law in Dodge City, 
and the sale of eighty barrels of four-year-old whisky, 
besides other liquors and bar fixtures was announced by 
Henry Sturm, the well known purveyor of the city. The 
prohibition law put a different character on liquor sales, 
many of the saloons being transformed into *'drug 
stores." 

— 240 — 




Col. Brick Bond 
One of the Seven Old Timers of Dodge City 



CHAPTER XIII 

Resorts Other Than Saloons, and Pastimes 
Other Than Drinking 

Under the heading, ''A Bloody Prize Fight in Dodge 
City," the Dodge City Times of June 16th, 1877, gives a 
characteristic account of the thrilling encounter as fol- 
lows: 

*'0n last Tuesday morning the champion prize fight 
of Dodge City was indulged in by Messrs. Nelson Whit- 
man and the noted Red Hanley, familiarly known as *the 
Red Bird from the South.' An indefinite rumor had been 
circulated in sporting circles that a fight was to take 
place, but the time and place was known only to a select 
few. The sport took place in front of the Saratoga saloon 
at the silent hour of 4 :39 a. m., when the city police were 
retiring after the dance hall revelry had subsided and the 
belles w^ho are in there were off duty. Promptly at the 
appointed time, the two candidates for championship were 
at the joint. Colonel Norton acted as rounder-up and 
whipper-in for both fighters while Bobby Gill ably per- 
formed the arduous task of healing and handling and 
sponging off. Norton called time and the ball opened 
with some fine hits from the shoulder. Whitman was the 
favorite in the pools but Red made a brilliant effort to win 
the champion belt. 

''During the forty-second round Red Hanley im- 
plored Norton to take Nelson off for a little while till 
he could have time to put his right eye back where it 
belonged, set his jawbone and have the ragged edge 
trimmed off his ears where they had been chewed the 
worst. This was against the rules of the ring so Norton 
declined, encouraging him to bear it as well as he could 
and squeal when he got enough. About the sixty-fifth 
round Red squealed unmistakably and Whitman was 

— 241 — 



declared winner. Tlie only injury sustained by the loser 
in this fight were two ears chewed off, one eye busted 
and the other disabled, right cheek bone caved in, bridge 
of the nose broken, seven teeth knocked out, one jaw- 
bone mashed, one side of the tongue bit off, and several 
other unimportant fractures and bruises. Red retires 
from the ring in disgust." 

A shade worse than the prize fight was a bout at 
lap-jacket, as described in the ''Dodge City Times," of 
May 12th, 1877. 

''We, yesterday, witnessed an exhibition of the Afri- 
can national game of lap-jacket, in front of Shulz' harness 
shop. The game is played by two colored men, who each 
toe a mark and whip each other with bull whips. In the 
contest yesterday, Henry Rogers, called Eph, for short, 
contended with another darkey for the championship and 
fifty cents prize money. They took heavy new whips, 
from the harness shop, and poured in the strokes pretty 
lively. Blood flowed and dust flew and the crowd 
cheered until Policeman Joe Mason came along and sus- 
pended the cheerful exercise. In Africa, where this 
pleasant pastime is indulged in to perfection, the contest- 
ants strip to the skin, and frequently cut each other's 
flesh open to the bone." 

Dodge City is especially distinguished as the only 
town in the state, or the whole United States, for that 
matter, that ever conducted a bull fight. To use the 
vernacular of the time. Dodge City ^'pulled off" a 
genuine bull fight, according to Mexican rules and regu- 
lations, under the auspices of the Driving Park and Fair 
Association, on the fourth and fifth of July, 1884. The 
bull fighters were full-bloods of Mexico, and the "Globe" 
mentioned them as "some of the best citizens of the City 
of Chihuahua, Mexico, and as intelligent a party of men 
as any person would wish to meet. Their redeeming trait 
is that they cannot be forced to drink a drop of strong 
liquor. ' ' 

— 242 — 



To give local zest and character to the occasion, the 
bulls, which were of local origin — ^untamed animals of 
these plains — w^ere given names purely provincial, the 
local cognomens of several Dodge citizens being evident. 
For instance, Ringtailed Snorter, Cowboy Killer, Iron 
Gall, Lone Star, Long Branch, Opera, Klu Klux, Sheriff, 
Doc, Rustler, Jim, and Eat-em Richard, were the twelve 
male bovines to snort at the red flag and other means of 
provoking anger. 

An apology or explanation is given of the bull fight, 
previous to the occurrence, by the manager in charge of 
the ''distinguished party," so-called, which he says is 
''largely misconstrued and misunderstood. Instead of 
being a cruel and barbarous proceeding, it is quite the 
reverse. While the animal is provoked and tantalized to 
fury, no cruelty to the animal is indulged in; and when 
the animal is to be dispatched, it is instantly done, and 
in less cruel and tortuous manner than if a butcher had 
slaughtered one for the block. The term, 'bull fighting,' 
is wrongly interpreted." 

The manner of the bull fight is given, but the reader 
is interested in the event as it signalled Dodge City's 
superiority in entertainment. There were five matadors, 
four on foot and one on horseback, each dressed in gaudy 
costume. The weapons used were "bandarillos," or 
tastefully ornamented darts, which were placed on the 
animal's neck and shoulders, as he would charge upon the 
matadors. The attractive garbs of the bull fighters 
incensed the bulls, and the fight was earnest, each bull 
being dispatched in order. The account closes the scene 
with the statement that the excitement was now at its 
height. An infuriated bull and a slightly injured matador, 
whose blood was up to fever heat, made short work of the 
closing exercises. With much parleying, the animal was 
dealt a fatal blow. 

During the excitement just before our great bull 
fight, the onl}^ one, as has been said, ever to take place 

— 243 — 



in the United States, the boys were cutting out and try- 
ing the bulls, to find which would be the most vicious 
and the best fighters. A gentleman, whom we will call 
Brown, said it was all nonsense about shaking a red rag 
in a bull's face ; that he knew it would not make him fight 
because he had tried it. A gentleman, overhearing the 
remark, said: ''Brown, I will bet you a fifty dollar suit 
of clothes you can't shake a red rag in a bull's face 
without his fighting, and you have the privilege of select- 
ing the most docile bull in this lot of fighters." 

The bet was soon made, and Brown got a red shirt 
and climbed down into the corral. The bull was looking 
as calm as a summer morning, and Brown went towards 
the animal, keeping the red shirt well behind him. As he 
came close to the brute, he suddenly produced the shirt 
and flirted it in the bull's face. The beast jumped back 
in astonishment and kept his eye on Brown, while Brown 
waved the old vermilion garment vigorously. Then the 
bull shook his head several times, as if he declined to have 
anything to do with that business, and Brown turned 
towards us and put his thumb to his nose and made a sign 
of victory. 

Just then an idea seemed to strike that bull. He put 
his head down and moved swiftly forward. Brown, at 
first, thought there had been an earthquake. Upon his 
descent, he thought he would try to run, but the old 
long horn was inserted in the seat of his trousers, and 
again he went up, high enough to take a bird's-eye view 
of the surrounding country. On the twenty-fifth descent, 
he fell on the other side of the corral, and we picked him 
up. His mouth was full of grass and sand. We asked 
him if his views about bulls had undergone any change ; 
but he walked silently along. We wanted to know how 
he enjoyed the scenery, the last time he went up; but he 
would not say. He merely went into the cook-house, 
filled up both barrels of his gun with old nails and screws 
and scrap iron, and then he went to interview that bull. 

— 244 — 



Hokey-pokey (or in scientific phrase, Bisulphite of 
Carbon), was the means of great sport among the gang in 
early days. If the stuff was applied to any animal with 
hair, it had a wonderful effect. For the time being, the 
animal just went crazy, and it seemed the more sleepy 
and good for nothing the horse was, the better he would 
perform under the effects of this medicine. All you had 
to do was to drop a few drops on the horse, any place, and 
almost instantly it would take effect. 

One of our most prominent lawyers used to drive, 
to a fine buggy, one of the most dilapidated pieces of 
horseflesh. The boys would josh this lawyer about driv- 
ing such a woe-begone, sleepy animal. They thought they 
would give him a lesson, and maybe he would take the 
hint and get a good horse. The old horse's name was Dick. 
Mr. Lawyer hitched Dick in front of his office one day, 
and the boys were ready. They said: ''Colonel, what is 
the matter with Dick? He acts so funny — looks like he 
is going mad. Has he been exposed to the bite of a mad 
dog?" Just then the circus began. Old Dick went up 
in the air, came down, kicking first one foot, then both, 
then all together, and away he would go, Mr. Lawyer hold 
of his bridle, holloing, ''Whoa, Dick! "Whoa Dick! 
What is the matter with you, Dick?" But Dick paid no 
heed. He just kept at it all the harder until he had kicked 
himself out of the shafts, and then kicked the harness 
all to pieces, and cut all sorts of shines and capers. He 
would lift the lawyer right off his feet, until he had to 
let go the bridle and give old Dick full sway, and I think 
he was one of the most astonished men I ever saw. But he 
never got on to their racket until the gang presented him 
with a new set of harness and told him the joke. 

I have seen cowboys, who prided themselves on their 
horsemanship, ride into town, and the boys would dope 
a horse. The rider would stay with him a long time, but, 
at last, he had to go. Never yet did I see a man who 
could retain his seat on a doped horse. 

— 245 — 



A poor little traveling preacher rode into town, one 
Sunday, and rode up to a crowd that had gathered on the 
street, on account of some excitement. Some little urchin 
got to him with the hokey-pokey, and away went that 
little preacher. The horse bolted right into the crowd, 
scattering it right and left, and kicking and squalling and 
bawling. First, the preacher's stove pipe hat went up 
into the air; next, his saddle-bags; and then, the poor 
fellow himself went sprawling over the pony's head. He 
got up and brushed the dust off, saying, ' ' Some ungodl}^ 
person has done something to my horse ! ' ' 

One day a real, typical horseman rode into town, on 
one of the finest saddlers I ever saw. The man on this 
horse was a perfect picture of a centaur. He rode up to 
where a horse auction was in progress and said: "Mr. 
Auctioneer, I am going east and have no use for this 
horse, or I would not part with him. He is all that he 
appears to be, has all the gaits of a saddler, is sound as a 
dollar, and gentle as a dog. He never ran away, will 
stand without hitching, and was never known to buck, 
plunge, or kick." He rode up and down the street a 
time or two, and came back, and then they doped the 
horse. Now, of all the running and bucking and pitching 
and kicking you ever saw, that horse did it, right there. 
The man stayed with him a long time, and the gang 
began to think, "Well, here is a man that a horse can't 
throw." But just then, off he went, and a little further 
on the horse stood still. The man caught him, led him 
back, and apologized to the crowd. He said: ''Gentle- 
men, I beg your pardon. I iied to you, but upon my 
word I never saw this horse act badly before, in any 
way. I withdraw him from market. The horse is not for 
sale." I don't think this man ever did know what ailed 
the horse. 

There was an old man who picked bones and hauled 
them to Dodge. He had two very old, bony horses. They 
did not seem to have any life whatever, and the gang 

— 246 — 



thought they would have fun out of the old man, so they 
asked him if his horses were for sale. Well, he would 
sell the horse but didn't want to sell the mare. They 
asked him if they had ever been locoed or would eat 
the loco weed. "No, indeed, sir! my horses were never 
known to touch it." ''You have no objection to our 
trying them?" "No, indeed, sir; try them all you want 
to." So they took the horse out of the wagon, and some 
one held a bunch of loco w^eed to the horse's head while 
another applied the hokej^-pokey. Now that old horse, 
like all the balance, just went crazy, and some one got 
around and applied the medicine to the mare, also, who 
was still hitched to the wagon. She took wagon, harness, 
and everything along with her, kicked out the front end 
of the wagon, and they liked never to have got her 
stopped, the way she turned that wagon around. The 
gang gave the old fellow a ten dollar bill, and he collected 
his scattered pieces of wagon and went after more bones, 
wondering what could have ailed the horses and made 
him lose a good sale. 

The gang surely had great sport, until things got so 
bad there was an ordinance passed, prohibiting the sale of 
hokey-pokey. 

One day two dagoes came to town, leading a very 
large bear. The bear sure was a good one, and performed 
many cute tricks. For such a tremendous animal, he was 
very active. When the gang had seen all they wanted of 
the bear's tricks, they hokey-pokied him, and w^e thought 
he was active before but we hadn't seen any of his activ- 
ity. That bear rolled and ran and squalled just like a 
human, and he cut up all manner of didoes. The Italians 
tried their best, at first, to soothe down his pain by 
petting him, but the bear would have none of it and 
carried on so outrageously that the Italians got afraid 
of him and retreated to a safe distance. Every once in 
I awhile that bear would spy them and rush towards them, 
seeking relief, I suppose, but when the dagoes would see 

— 247 — 



r 



him coming with his mouth wide open and his eyes rolling, ' 
they would turn tail and fly. They were afraid of his 
company, thinking he had gone mad. Well, when the 
effects wore off, Mr. Bear looked pretty sheepish, and the 
dagoes caught him by the chain, and led him off out of 
sight into a cut, got a railroad tie, and the way they 
rubbed that bear's stomach, one on each side, until the 
sweat poured down their faces! I don't suppose they 
ever worked so hard before. You see, they thought the 
bear had eaten something that did not agree with him 
and he had the stomachache. When they got tired rub- 
bing, they brought him back, but Mr. Bear, as soon as 
he saw the crowd, jerked away and climbed a telegraph 
pole and sat there among the wires until the crowd dis- 
persed. He had more sense than his owners — he would 
not be hokey-pokied again. 

Among the many favorite amusements, pastimes, 
and fun of the gang was to scare a greenhorn with a big 
stuffed bull snake. A party who kept a large establish- 
ment to entertain the thirsty and gratify the sports with 
billiards, cards, dice, and, in fact, it was a great and 
favorite resort for the lovers of fun ; also, in his back yard 
he had a large wire cage, filled with big rattlesnakes. 
More than a dozen of these venomous reptiles occupied 
the cage and lived in peace and harmony, up to the fatal 
day which I shall tell about farther on. 

Now then, it was the duty of some loafer or hanger- 
on around the saloon to go out and hunt up a greenhorn, 
invite him to a drink, then tell him about the big den 
of rattlers, and take him out and show him the snakes, 
relating an interesting history of this big rattler and 
that rattler, how they had bitten a man who died. When 
he had his auditor absorbed in the story, with his eyes 
bulged out, and attending to nothing else but the story of 
the big snakes, the story teller would suddenly say: 
*'Bend your neck and look down there at that monster;" 

— 248 — 



and when his man would bend his head and stoop over, 
someone would place the enormous stuffed snake on his 
neck, its tail and its head almost touching the ground 
from either side. Mr. Man, feeling the snake and, at the 
same time, seeing it, would give an ungodly whoop, bend 
his head, and keep jumping up and down, trying to shake 
it off over his head, instead of straightening up, as he 
ought to have done, Avhen the snake would have dropped 
off his back. Then there would be a seance. The crowd 
would whoop and hollo, and the poor fellow would join 
them from fear and keep jumping up and down, until, 
finally, he would get rid of the terrible snake — it would 
drop off. 

Now negroes fear snakes worse than any race of 
people on earth, and no sooner would the darkey get over 
iiis fright (when the victim chanced to be a darkey), 
than he would go out into the street and bring in another 
darkey to go through the same performance as himself. 
This was his mode of revenge. 

One day an old fellow came along, traveling back 
east to his wife's folks, and he proved to be an easy 
victim of the gang, but in the end, it was an expense to 
them. After going through the same performance as the 
negro, they found he had a prairie dog in his wagon, 
which the boys persuaded him to let them put into the 
cage with the snakes, and they told the old man the dog 
would whip the snakes. They had no idea he would, but 
the little fellow made a gallant fight, I tell you. He made 
the attack and began the fight himself, as soon as he was 
placed with them, and, my! how he did fight. He just 
went for those snakes like a little tiger, would grab oup 
in his teeth, lift it almost off the floor, and shake it sav- 
agely; and he just kept on until he got all those snakes 
so riled up, he set them crazy, and they all got to fighting 
and biting each other. The little dog would get so tired 
he would rush up the side of the cage and hold on for a 
little while, until he regained his wind, and then he 

— 249 — 



would jump down and at 'em again, harder then ever. 
He did make a gallant fight and a long one. It surprised 
us all that he could last so long, but, finally, the little 
fellow began to weaken, and the old man declared the 
fight off. The prairie dog died soon after they took him 
out of the cage, but he got his revenge ; next day there 
was not one of those dozen big rattlers alive. They must 
have poisoned each other in the fight. Anyhow, they 
were all dead — not one left alive to tell of the fight; the 
little prairie dog took them all with him to the happy 
hunting grounds. It was a fit ending for such a gallant 
fio^ht as the little fellow made. 



250 



CHAPTER XIV 

Where the Swindler Flourished and Grew Fat 

With its cosmopolitan crowds and free and easy life, 
with the broad frontier for refuge close at hand, it was 
natural that Dodge City, in its early days, should be a 
fruitful field for the street fraud and professional 
swindler of every description. Probably, there was not 
a confidence game nor a fake proposition known, at that 
time, that was not Avorked to the full on the streets of 
Dodge City, and even the open-hearted kindness and liber- 
ality which so characterized the town in cases of distress 
and need, was often made material for dishonest manipu- 
lation, and the foundation for ill-gotten gains, by 
unprincipled individuals. 

So proverbial had the liberality of the citizens of 
Dodge City become that it was known for miles up and 
down the old Santa Fe trail. Unprincipled immigrants 
and strangers took advantage of it. For instance, a 
strong, hearty, middle-aged man, bronzed from exposure 
to the weather, and having other appearances of an hon- 
est, hard working, industrious man who was taking 
Horace Greeley's advice and moving west to better his 
condition, came into Dodge, one afternoon, hitched in 
harness by the side of a poor, old raw-boned horse, draw- 
ing a wagon in which was the younger portion of his 
family. The others were barefooted and walking. He 
claimed that his other horse got alkalied and died some 
distance down the river, which was a likely story, as 
there were lots of alkali pools in the river bottom. Some 
sympathetic persons went around with a hat in their 
hands and his hard luck story on their tongues, and soon 
enough money was raised to buy him a good span of 
horses, grub for his family, and to pay his expenses for 
some time. He went on his way, saying in his heart, 

— 251 — 



''What fools these people be ! They have much more gen- 
erosity than sense, ' ' for he had sent his hired man around 
north of town with two good horses, and we heard he was 
fairly well to do. 

Another time, a poor family, with a dilapidated 
wagon and horses to match, the wagon full of children, 
rolled into Dodge and exhibited a dead baby and a sick 
mother. No money, no clothes, no food, and, as a Mexican 
says, ''no nather." This was a piteous sight to behold, 
and soon the generous feeling, always slumbering in the 
hearts of the good people of Dodge, was aroused, and 
they raised a subscription for a coffin and buried the 
little one, and gave the mother quite a snug little sum of 
money, and bought groceries for the family. That night 
they dug up the corpse and took it and coffin to the 
next town, after filling up the grave. You see, it was a 
wax baby — a good imitation. We heard of them playing 
the same trick on other towns. 

One morning in the early days of Dodge City, two 
gentlemen, elegantly dressed and groomed, made their 
appearance at the Long Branch saloon. One could see at 
a glance they were educated and refined, and both men 
had lovely manners and exceedingly great persuasive 
powers. They were quiet and unassuming, both were lib- 
eral spenders as well as drinkers, but they never were 
under the influence of liquor. It was only a short time 
until they had captivated a lot of friends, and I among 
the number. They were admirable story tellers. One 
we will call Doc Holiday, the other Creek. They had 
traveled all over Europe, spoke several languages, and 
the doctor had diplomas from several colleges in Europe, 
having finished his education in Heidelburg. 

They and I soon became very intimate. Of course, 
before our friendship ripened, I took them to be what I 
thought them, elegant gentlemen; but, to my surprise, 
under a promise from me not to betray them, they told me 
they were big crooks and gold brick men. The first year 

— 252 — 



of the great boom at Leadville, they gold-bricked an 
Ohio banker. The banker came to Leadville with scads 
of ready money, hunting soft snaps. Their stool pigeons 
soon discovered him and brought them together. The 
gold brick men claimed they were the last of a gang of 
mountain bandits who robbed the Deadwood stage. Most 
of these gold bricks, they said, belonged to the govern- 
ment and were being shipped to the mint at Denver when 
they were captured. The government had a record of the 
number of the bricks and the actual weight of each brick, 
so they could be identified, which was the reason they 
were making such a sacrifice, for they, themselves could 
not possibly dispose of the bricks, to get anywhere near 
their value. 

The price was soon fixed at about twenty thousand 
dollars, but then came the test. The old banker thought 
he was very cunning. They brought a brick and had the 
banker file it at the ends, center, and middle, took the 
filings to an isolated spot in a fine, white silk handker- 
chief, and applied the acid. The filings stood the test 
because they had exchanged handkerchiefs, substituting 
genuine gold filings for the base metal. The banker then 
demanded to see all the bricks. They had them sunk in 
a little lake in the mountains, with a gravelly bottom. 
They dove down and brought up a brick which the banker 
filed the same as the other, and took the filings, that night 
after dark, to an old log cabin on the outskirts of the 
town. When they were about to make the acid test 
again, someone knocked. They blew out the light and 
made the grand change again, and told the banker to take 
the filings himself to a jeweler, and apply the acid. Of 
course, the test was approved by the jeweler and the 
banker, because the dust was genuine gold dust. 

Now then, Creek stayed with the banker, at his re- 
quest, as far as Chicago. This was playing into their 
hands, of course. The banker was anxious to have Creek 
at the final test in Chicago, but Creek had no such notion. 

— 253 — 



Of course, these men were disguised, and had their own 
plans, and were in constant communication with each 
other. At some large city east of the Missouri River, an 
officer came on board, put his hand on the banker's 
shoulder, and said: ''I arrest you as an accomplice in a 
theft of government gold, which I have reason to believe 
you have with you, and, if you promise to behave, I won't 
put the handcuffs on you." The officer who made the 
arrest said to his deputy who stood behind him, "Look 
out for this man and his partner, too (meaning Creek) ; 
while I go out and get us some lunch, as I don't intend 
they shall leave this train until it pulls into Chicago." 
As soon as the officer was gone, Creek said to the deputy, 
"Please go with me to the closet." When they returned, 
Creek said to the banker, "The deputy wants to talk to 
you privately. ' ' The deputy said, ' ' Why not buy off this 
United States marshal? You will not only lose your 
bricks, but you will be disgraced forever, and may go to 
the penitentiary for a long term. Try him Vv^hen he gets 
back." Of course, at first, the United States marshal was 
very indignant, but finally said he would turn the banker 
loose on the pajrment of fifteen thousand dollars, and he 
got the money soon after reaching Chicago. It is needless 
to say the United States marshal was no one else but Doc 
Holiday. 

The last I saw of the two, they were starting south, 
overland, in a buckboard, with tent, cooking utensils, and 
camp equipage of all kinds. They had along a race horse, 
a prize fighter, a fighting bull dog, and two prize winning 
game cocks. They were sports, every inch of them, if 
they were crooks, and both were dead shots with the six- 
shooter. These men were in Dodge City under cover, and 
stayed all summer, or until the hunt for them had been 
abandoned. Dodge was the hiding place for a great many 
crooks of every description. They even say Jesse James 
was here, for a short time, under cover, and Bob Ford, his 
murderer, was also. 

— 254 — 



On one occasion, word reached Dodge City several 
days in advance, of the arrival of a large band of Gypsies, 
headed for Dodge City. Large bodies move slowly, and 
so it was with this band, so the ''gang" had plenty of 
time to prepare a proper reception for them. This band 
was the most filthy set of vagabonds imaginable, and their 
animals and outfit were worse, if such a thing could be. 

They anticipated a rich harvest here, as they had 
heard of the liberality and generosity of our people and 
expected large returns from fortune telling, horse racing, 
horse trading, begging, and all the tricks in which they 
are proficient. They began business with horse racing, 
but the gang ''hokey-pokied" their horses, and the result 
was the throwing of the riders over the horses^ heads, 
and the bucking, kicking, and pitching of the animals, 
until they got to camp. The second day, the women 
brought in their chimpanzees, and they had some mon- 
sters, but they were mangy, skinny, and repulsive, and 
their monkeys, bears, parrots, and other animals were in 
the same condition. They were a scabby looking lot. 

For shelter, the Gypsies had a hundred little low dog 
tents, black with smoke, dirt, and filth, and their wagons 
were dilapidated, wabbly, and of all sizes and descrip- 
tions, from a wheelbarrow and dog cart to a two-horse 
wagon. 

Their chimpanzees were intelligent and well trained 
and understood their business, but they did not under- 
stand their trouble when they received a liberal applica- 
tion of ''hokey-pokey" from the gang, and it made them 
vicious and crazy. They had sense enough, however, to 
know who applied it to them, and they went after the 
fellows and very nearly caught some of them. What a 
fight and struggle the women had to control these ani- 
mals, and it certainly was an interesting and amusing 
diversion to see them. 

There was a large, smooth piece of ground, just out- 
side the town limits, where they camped, expecting to 

— 255 — 



stay a long time. They had one very large, ferocious 
bear, and twenty or thirty dogs of all kinds and varieties, 
with which they would give their big show or ''principal 
attraction. ' ' This attraction they would not put on unless 
they got their price. Their big performance was to tie 
a rope, several hundred feet long, to this big, half-starved 
bear, give him a large beef bone, then turn in the whole 
pack of half-starved dogs with him. Now this was a 
fight, as they say here, ''for your whiskers." They 
announced their first exhibition for Saturday evening, it 
was soon advertised all over town, and another exhibition 
was announced for the following morning. 

It was a beautiful summer morning, and I do not 
think that many went to church that day, judging from 
the crowed on the grounds. The boys were posted from 
the exhibition of the evening before, and were ready to 
make a slight change in the program. Just as the bear 
was turned out, with the rope attached, he received an 
application of the "hokey-pokey" and he was doped 
plentifully. At the same time, every cage containing a 
wolf, coyote, bear, monkey, or chimpanzee, which had 
been previously assigned to some member of the gang 
for attention, was carefully attended to, and all of the 
animals were doped. The work w^as perfectly done, and 
the results were highly satisfactory. The bear just simply 
went crazy, and he struck the dogs right and left, as they 
came to him, and every lick sent a dog some distance in 
some direction. The dogs were just as determined and 
industrious as the bear, and would come at him more 
fiercely than ever, but they made no impression on him. 
He wanted to get away from something, he did not know 
what. He would run the whole length of the rope, when 
the men at the other end of the rope would check him. 
He would then take a swing in some other direction, and 
the people would fall all over each other and in every 
direction. The bear had the right of Avay and used it. 
Our marshal. Low Warren, was busy, trying to keep the 

— 256 — 



people out of the way of the bear and danger, and tq 
restore order, but, notwithstanding he was perhaps the 
largest man in the county, he might as well have tried to 
stop the flow of the Arkansas river. In an attempt to 
get some women and children out of the way, he went 
sprawling down and took several more with him. 

As here related, all the animals were doped at the 
same time, and the effect was the same on all, and at the 
same time. The howling, screaming, moaning, and acro- 
batic performances of people and animals were certainly 
worth the price of admission, and such confusion I never 
saw. When the Gypsies could come to a realization of 
what had happened, the women made a charge on the 
gang, armed with sticks, stones, and everything that 
would serve as a weapon of offensive warfare. The dis- 
regard for polite language was very noticeable, and the 
confusion of tongues was bewildering. 

As a fitting climax to this unique entertainment, a 
young fellow named Gibson, rode up to the outskirts of 
the camp, on a fiery young colt, and was viewing the 
results of the performance, when some member of the 
fraternity slipped up behind the colt and doped him. 
Gibson and the colt parted company immediately, and the 
colt took his departure, giving an excellent exhibition of 
pitching and bucking through the camp, scattering the 
women and children of the Gypsies, and adding fuel to 
their already consuming passions and rage. They con- 
cluded that Dodge City was certainly the capital of all 
the demons in existence, and, the next day, they folded 
their tents and departed for more congenial parts. Dodge 
City was too much for them. 

A unique but decidedly significant warning to the 
swindlers and crooks infesting Dodge City, was made by 
a newly elected mayor, A. B. Webster, who, upon assum- 
ing office, issued the following proclamation : 

— 257 — 



' *To all whom it may concern : All thieves, thugs, con- 
fidence men, and persons without visible means of sup- 
port, will take notice that the ordinances, enacted for 
their special benefit, Avill be rigorously enforced after 
April 7th, 1881." 



— 258 — 



CHAPTER XV 

The Cattle Business and the Texas Drive 

For a few of Dodge City's earliest years, the great 
Iierds of buffalo were the source from which sprung a 
large share of the business activity and prosperity of the 
place. As has been virtually stated, buffalo hunting 
was a regular vocation, and traffic in buffalo hides and 
meat a business of vast proportions. But after a time, 
the source of this business began to fail, and something 
to take its place was necessary if a gap were not to be 
left in Dodge City's industrial world. A substitute, in 
the form of a new industry, was not wanting, however, 
for immediately in the wake of the buffalo hunter came 
the cowboy, and following the buffalo came the long- 
horned steer. As the herds of the former receded and 
vanished, the herds of the latter advanced and multiplied, 
until countless numbers of buffaloes were wholly sup- 
planted by countless numbers of cattle, and Dodge City 
was surrounded with new-fashioned herds in quite the 
old-fashioned way. Being the border railroad town, 
Dodge also beca;iie at once the cattle market for the whole 
southwestern frontier, and, very shortly, the cattle busi- 
ness became enormous, being practically all of that con- 
nected with western Kansas, eastern Colorado, New Mex- 
ico, Indian Territory (now Oklahoma), and Texas. Cattle 
were driven to Dodge, at intervals, from all these points, 
for sale and transportation, but the regular yearly drive 
from the ranges of Texas was so much greater in numbers 
and importance than the others, that they were quite 
obscured by it, while the Texas drive became famous for 
its immensity. 

The '^ Kansas City Indicator," and other reliable 

papers and estimates, place the drive north from Texas, 

from 1866 to 1878, at 3,413,513 head. The ''San Antonio 

— 259 — 



Express" says of the enormous number: '* Place a low 
average receipt of seven dollars per head, yet we have the 
great sum of $24,004,591.00. Not more than half of this 
vast amount of money finds its way back to the state, but 
much the larger portion is frittered away by the reckless 
owner and more reckless cowboy." Of this money, a con- 
temporary writer says: "Of course Dodge receives her 
portion which adds greatly to the prosperity of the town 
and helps build up our city. The buyers pay on an average 
of eight dollars per head for yearling steers and seven 
dollars for heifers. They place these yearling steers on 
ranches, both north and south of us, and market them 
in two years, when they net in Kansas City, Chicago, and 
other markets at twenty-five dollars, making the net 
profit of two hundred per cent on their investments or 
doubling their capital twice over, as their losses are not 
more than two or three per cent, and the cost of running 
them for two years are very light." 

They paid no taxes; they paid no rent for their 
ranches ; and their ranges were free. The cost of living 
was very light, and all they were out were the men's 
wages. You can readily see how all those engaged in 
the stock business quickly made fortunes, and the business 
was the cleanest, healthiest on earth. 

The cattle drive to Dodge City first began in 1875- 
1876, when there were nearly two hundred and fifty 
thousand head driven to this point. In 1877, there w^ere 
over three hundred thousand, and the number each year 
continued to increase until the drive reached nearly a 
half million. "We held the trade for ten years, until 1886, 
when the dead line was moved to the state line. There 
were more cattle driven to Dodge, any and every year that 
Dodge held it, than to any other town in the state, and 
Dodge held it three times longer than any other town, 
and, for about ten years, Dodge was the greatest cattle 
market in the world. Yes, all the towns that enjoyed the 

— 260 — 



trade of the Texas Drive, Dodge exceeded greatly in 
number, and held it much longer. 

In corroboration of this assertion, I give a quotation 
from the ''Kansas City Times," of that period, thus: 
** Dodge City has become the great bovine market of the 
world, the number of buyers from afar being unprece- 
dentedly large this year ( ), giving an impetus to 
the cattle trade that cannot but speedily show its fruits. 
The wonderfully rank growth of grasses and an abund- 
ance of water this season has brought the condition of 
the stock to the very highest standard, the ruling prices 
showing a corresponding improvement. There are now 
upwards of one hundred thousand head of cattle in the 
immediate vicinity of Dodge City, and some of the herds 
run high into the thousands. There is a single herd 
numbering forty thousand, another of seventeen thousand, 
another of twenty-one thousand, and several of five 
thousand or thereabouts. On Saturday, no less than 
twenty-five thousand were sold. The Texas drive to 
Dodge this year will run close to two hundred thousand 
bead." 

A "Kansas City Times" correspondent, in a letter 
headed, ''Dodge City, Kansas, May 28th, 1877," writes 
up the subject as follows : 

"Abilene, Ellsworth, and Hays City on the Kansas 
Pacific railroad, then Newton and Wichita, and now 
Dodge City on the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe road, 
have all, in their turn, enjoyed the 'boil and bubble, toil 
trouble' of the Texas cattle trade. 

"Three hundred and sixty-seven miles west from 
Kansas City we step off at Dodge, slumbering as yet 
(8:30 a. m.) in the tranquil stillness of a May morning. 
In this respect Dodge is peculiar. She awakes from her 
slumbers about eleven, a. m., takes her sugar and lemon 
at twelve m., a square meal at one p. m., commences biz 

— 261 — 



at two o'clock, gets lively at four, and at ten it is hip-liip- 
hurrali! till five in the morning. 

''Not being a full-fledged Dodgeite, we breakfasted 
with Deacon Cox, of the Dodge House, at nine o'clock, 
and meandered around until we found ourselves on top of 
the new and handsome court house. A lovely prairie 
landscape was here spread out before us. Five miles to 
the southeast nestled Fort Dodge, coyly hiding, one would 
think, in the brawny arm of the Arkansas. Then, as far 
as the eye could leach, for miles up the river and past the 
city, the bright green velvety carpet was dotted by 
thousands of Jong-horns which have, in the last few days, 
arrived, after months of travel, some of them from 
boyond the Rio Grande and which may, in a few more 
months, give the Bashi Bazouks fresh courage for 
chopping up th? Christians and carrying out the dictates 
of their Koran. But we are too far off. We have invaded 
Turkey with Texas beef, and, though a long-horned sub- 
ject, must be somewhat contracted here. 

''Dodge City has now about twelve hundred inhabi- 
tants — residents we mean, for there is a daily population 
of twice that many ; six or s^ ven large general stores, the 
la]-gest of which, Rath & Wright, does a quarter of a 
m-'llion retail trade in a year; and the usual complement 
of drug stores, bakers, birlchers, blacksmiths, etc.; and 
last, but not by" any means the least, nineteen cjaloons — 
no little ten-by-twelves, but seventy-five to one hundred 
feet long, glittering with paint and mirrors, and some of 
them paying one hundred dollars per month rent for the 
naked room. 

"Dodge, we find, is in the track of the San Juanist, 
numbers of which stop here to outfit, on their way to 
the silvery hills. 

"We had the good luck to interview Judge Beverly 
of Texas, who is the acknowledged oracle of the cattle 
trade. He estimates the drive at two hundred and eighty- 

— 262 — 




John Riney 
One of the Seven Old Timers of Dodge City 



five thousand, probably amounting to three hundred 
thousand, including calves. Three-quarters of all will 
probably stop at Dodge and be manipulated over the 
Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe, by that prince of railroad 
agents, J. H. Phillips, Esq. Herbert, as he is familiarly 
called, is a graduate of Tammany Hall and is understood 
to wear in his shirt front the identical solitaire once worn 
by Boss Tweed. It is hinted that Herbert will buy every 
hoof destined for the Kansas Pacific road, at four times 
its value, rather than see them go that way. He would 
long, long ago have been a white-winged angel, playing 
on the harp of a thousand strings, were it not for the 
baneful associations of Frazer, Sheedy, Cook, et al. You 
can hear more about 'cutting out,' 'rounding up,' etc., in 
Dodge, in fifteen minutes, than you can hear in small 
towns like Chicago and St. Louis in a life time." 

In the same year, another newspaper representative, 
G. C. Noble, who visited Dodge, describes his impressions 
as follows: 

*'At Dodge City we found everything and everybody 
busy as they could comfortably be. This being my first 
visit to the metropolis of the West, we were very pleas- 
antly surprised, after the cock and bull stories that lunatic 
correspondents had given the public. Not a man was 
swinging from a telegraph pole ; not a pistol was fired ; 
no disturbance of any kind was noted. Instead of being 
called on to disgorge the few ducats in our possession, we 
were hospitably treated by all. It might be unpleasant 
for one or two old time correspondents to be seen here, 
but they deserve all that would be meted out to them. 
The Texas cattlemen and cowboys, instead of being armed 
to the teeth, w4th blood in their eye, conduct themselves 
with propriety, many of them being thorough gentlemen. 

''Dodge City is supported principally by the immense 
cattle trade that is carried on here. During the season 
that has just now fairly opened, not less than two 

— 263 — 



hundred thousand head will find a market here, and 
there are nearly a hundred purchasers who make their 
headquarters here during the season. Mr. A. H. Johnson, 
the gentlemanly stock agent of the Atc-hison, Topeka & 
Santa Fe Company, informs ns that tie drive to this 
poizit. during the season, will be larger than ever before. 

"'From our window in the Dodge House, which, by 
the way, is one of the best and most commodious in the 
west, can be seen five herds, ranging from one thousand 
to ten thousand each, that are awaiting transportation. 
The stock yards here are the largest west of St. Louis, 
and just now are well filled- 

** Charles Hath & Company have a yard in which are 
about fifty thousand green and dried buffalo hides. 

"P. C. Zimmerman, an old patron of the 'Champa 
ion,' runs a general outfitting store, and flourishes 
financially and physically. Many other friends of the 
leading journal are doing business^ and are awaiting 
patiently the opening up of the country to agricultural 
purposes. 

"In the long run. Dodge is destined to become the 
metropolis of western Kansiifi and only awaits the devel- 
opment of its vast resources." 

One more brief extract from a visitor's account of 
his visit *' among the long-horns," and the extent and 
importance of Dodge City's eaiiy cattle trade will have 
been sufficiently established to permit my proceeding to 
some of the i)eculiar phases of that trade and the life 
of the stockmen and cowboys. This visitor sees the 
facetious side of the Dodge cattle traffic: 

''This is May. 1S77, Dodge City boiling over with 
buyers and drivers. * Dodge City!' called the brakeman, 
and, with about thirty other sinners, we strung out to the 
Dodge House to command the register with our auto- 
graphs, deposit our grip-sacks with Deacon Cox, and 
breakfast. But what a crowd is this we have elbowed 

— 2^4^ 



our reportorial nose into? and bless your soul, what a 
sight! It just looks like all Texas was here. We now 
learn that everybody not at the Dodge House is at the 
Alamo. The Alamo is presided over by a reformed Quaker 
from New York, and it is hinted that the manner in which 
he concocts a toddy (every genuine cattleman drinks 
toddy) increases the value of a Texas steer two dollars 
and seventy-five cents. There is about seventy-five 
thousand head around town. Everybody is, buying and 
selling. Everything you hear is about beeves and steers 
and cows and toddies and cocktails. The grass is remark- 
ably fine ; the water is plenty ; two drinks for a quarter, 
and no grangers. These facts make Dodge City the cattle 
point." 

Notwithstanding the regularity of the great drives 
into Dodge, their magnitude, and the general popularity 
of the cattle trade as a business, the life of the cowboys 
and drovers w^as, by no means, an easy one. It was 
beset on every hand by hardship and danger. Exposure 
and privation continually tried the man who was out 
with the great herds; accidents, stampedes, and other 
dangers continually threatened his life; horse and cattle 
thieves continually harassed him with fears for the safety 
of his mounts and his charge. 

A little item which appeared in the "Dodge City 
Times," of April 6th, 1878, read like this: "Mr. Jesse 
Evans and his outfit, consisting of fifty men and five 
four-mule teams and a number of saddle horses, started 
for the southwest yesterday. They go to New Mexico to 
gather from the ranges about twenty thousand cattle that 
Mr. Evans has purchased and will bring to Dodge City 
for sale and shipment." This expedition appeared simple 
and easy enough, from the tone of the item, but it gave 
no idea at all of the real facts in the case. 

The fifty men were picked up in Dodge City. They 
w^ere all fighters and gun-men, selected because they were 
such, for, in gathering these twenty thousand head of 

— 265 — 



cattle, they did so from under the very noses of the worst 
set of stock thieves and outlaws ever banded together, 
who were the Pecos River gang, with the famous "Billy 
the Kid" as leader. But they took the cattle without 
much fighting, and delivered them safely at Jesse Evan's 
ranch just southeast of Dodge. 

These men suffered incredible hardships on the drive 
up. Before they were half way back, winter overtook 
them, and their horses necessarily being thin from the 
terrible work they had done, could not survive the cold 
storms, but lay down and died. There was scarcely a 
mount left. The men were all afoot, and barefooted at 
that, and had to often help draw the mess wagon by hand. 
They lived for weeks on nothing but fresh beef, often 
without salt; no sugar, no coffee, no flour, no nothing, 
but beef, beef, all the time, and they were the most woe 
begone, ragged, long-haired outfit I ever saw — scarcely 
any clothing except old blankets tied around them in 
every fashion ; no shoes or hats ; indeed, they were almost 
naked. But I tell you what they did have a plenty; it 
was "gray-backs." With their long hair and long beards, 
these little "varmints" were having a feast, and the men 
bragged about these little pests keeping them alive and 
warm, for, in scratching so much, it gave good circulation 
to their blood. But notwithstanding their long hair and 
naked, dirty, lousy bodies, the men were in splendid 
health. They wandered into Dodge, one and two at a 
time, and, in this manner, it was two days and nights 
before they all straggled in. 

Perhaps the most dangerous, most dreaded, and most 
carefully guarded against phase of cattle driving was the 
stampede, where all the skill, nerve, and endurance of the 
drivers were tested to the limit. A common dark lantern 
was often a feature at such times. The part it played in 
quelling and controlling a stampede, as well as some 
features of the stampede itself, is well described, by a 
writer of cattle driving days, in this wise : 

— 266 — 



''One of the greatest aids to the cowboys during a 
stampede, on a dark stormy night, is the bull's-eye 
lantern, and it is so simple and handy. We all know 
when a stampede starts it is generally on a dark, stormy 
night. The cowboy jumps up, seizes his horse, and starts 
with a bound to follow the noise of the retreating herd, 
well knowing, as he does, the great danger before him; 
oftentimes encountering a steep bank, ten to twenty and 
sometimes thirty feet high, over which his horse plunges 
at full speed, to their certain death. For he knows not 
where the cattle, crazed by fear, will take him, but he 
does know it is his duty to follow as close as the speed of 
his horse will take him. This friend of his, the bull's-eye 
lantern, was discovered by accident. The flash of the 
lantern, thrown upon the bewildered herd, restores it to 
its equilibrium, and, in its second affright, produces a 
reaction, as it were, and, being completely subdued, the 
stampede is stopped, during the most tempestuous raging 
of the elements. The old-fashioned way was to ride to 
the front of the herd and fire their guns in the faces 61 
the cattle. Now, they throw the flash of the lantern 
across the front of the herd and flash the bull's-eye into 
their faces, which is much more effective. The courage 
of the cowboy is demonstrated frequently on the long 
trail, but few of the cowboys are unequal to the emergen- 



cies." 



As a result of the widespread stealing of cattle and 
horses, especially horses, which went on in connection 
with the great cattle traffic, the papers of the day 
abounded with notices like the following from the "Dodge 
City Times," of March 30th, 1878: 

"Mr. H. Spangler, of Lake City, Comanche County, 
arrived in the city last Saturday in search of two horses 
that had been stolen from him last December. He de- 
scribed the stolen stock to Sheriff Masterson who immed- 
iately instituted search. On Monday he found one of the 

— 267 — 



horses, a very valuable animal, at Mueller's cattle ranch 
on the Saw Log, it having been traded to Mr. Wolf. The 
horse was turned over to the owner. The sheriff has 
trace of the other horse and will endeavor to recover it. ' ' 

Many were the stories, of many different sorts, told 
about stock stealing and stock thieves. Some of these 
even took a humorous turn. One such, as told in early 
days, though funny was, nevertheless, true, and some do 
say that the man only took back what was taken from 
him, and it was (honestly or dishonestly) his horse. The 
reader may form his own opinion after perusing the story, 
as follows : 

'*Mr. O'Brien arrived in Dodge City last Sunday, 
August 30th, 1877, with the property, leaving, as we stat- 
ed, our hero on the open prairie. 

*'We can picture in our minds this festive horse-thief, 
as he wandered over this sandy plain, under the burning 
sun, bereft of the things he holds most dear, to-wit: his 
horse, his saddle, and his gun. His feet became sore, his 
lips parched, and he feels, verily, he is not in luck. At 
last he can hold his pent up passion no longer. A pale 
gray look comes into his face, and a steel gray look into 
his eye, and he swears by the great god of all horse- 
thieves (Dutch Henry) that he will show his oppressors a 
trick of two — that he will show them an aggrieved knight 
of the saddle knows no fear. His resolve is to recapture 
his horse or die in the attempt. A most noble resolve. 
The horse is his own by all laws known to horse-thieves 
in every land. It is his because he stole it. Now, be it 
known that this particular horse was a good horse, a 
horse whose speed was fast and whose wind was good, 
so to speak. This horse he loved because he was a fast 
horse and no common plug could run with half as much 
speed. Seated in the saddle on the back of this noble 
animal, our hero feared not even the lightning in its rapid 
career. As we said before, his determination was fixed 

— 268 — 



and his eye was sot. He would recapture the noble beast 
or he would die in the attempt. It was a go on foot and 
alone. He struck out. At the first hunters' camp he 
stole a gun, a pair of boots, and a sack of flour. He 
stole these articles because he had to have them, and it 
was a ground-hog case. On he came toward our beautiful 
city. His knowledge of the country led him direct to the 
farm of a rich farmer. As he approached he primed his 
gun, dropped lightly on hands and knees, and, with the 
demon glowing in his eye, stole silently through the tall 
buffalo grass to the house. Just at this time Mr. O'Brien 
happened to be riding out from town. He was riding 
directly by the place where our hero was concealed, and 
his first intimation of the presence of anyone was the 
sight of the man he met the Sunday before, with his gun 
cocked and pointed at him. 'Throw up your hands,' said 
the horse-thief; you have a small pistol in your belt — 
throw that down.' Mr. O'Brien obeyed. 'Now march to 
the stable before me, get my saddle and gun, and curry 
and saddle my horse which is picketed yonder, and await 
further orders.' 

''Now, it so happened that the wealthy farmer was 
walking out that evening with his shotgun on his arm. 
He came to the stable, but, just as he turned the corner, 
the muzzle of a gun was placed near his head and the 
word, 'Halt!' uttered. The rich farmer said, 'What do 
you want?' 'My horse, saddle, and bridle.' 'What else?' 
'Nothing.' The farmer made a move as if he would use 
his gun. The horse-thief said, 'Do not move or you will 
be hurt.' Silence for a moment, then, 'Lay down your 
gun.' The gun was laid down. By this time, Mr. O'Brien 
came out with the saddle and gun, the gun being strapped 
in the scabbard. Keeping them both under cover of his 
rifle, the horse-thief ordered them to walk before him 
to his horse and ordered Mr. O'Brien to saddle and bridle 
the horse, which he did. Our hero then mounted his brave 
steed and told his reluctant companions that if they pur- 

— 269 — 



sued him their lives would be worthless, and then he 
sped off like the wind. ' ' Reader, ' ' such is life in the far 
west." 

Besides stock thieves and stealing, the cattle trade of 
early Dodge was attended by many other desperate char- 
acters and irregular practices, that were long in being 
stamped out. No better way of describing these desperate 
characters and irregular practices is at hand than by 
introducing a few specimens, for the reader's consider- 
ation. 

Two of the greatest gamblers and faro-bank fiends, 
as well as two of the most desperate men and sure shots, 
were Ben and Billy Thompson. Every year, without fail, 
they came to Dodge to meet the Texas drive. Each 
brother had killed several men, and they were both dead 
shots. They terrorized Ellsworth county and city, the 
first year of the drive to that place, killed the sheriff of 
the county, a brave and fearless officer, together with 
several deputies, defied the sheriff's posse, and made 
their ''get away." 

A large reward was offered for them and they were 
pursued all over the country; but, having many friends 
among the big, rich cattle men, they finally gave them- 
selves up and, through the influence of these men who 
expended large sums of money in their defense, they were 
cleared. Ben told the writer that he never carried but 
one gun. He never missed, and always shot his victim 
through the head. He said, when he shot a man, he looked 
the crowd over carefully, and if the man had any close 
friends around or any dangerous witness was around, he 
would down him to destroy evidence. The last few years 
of his life, he never went to bed without a full quart bottle 
of three-star Hennessey brandy, and he always emptied 
the bottle before daylight. He could not sleep without it. 

Ben was a great favorite with the stock men. They 
needed him in their business for, be it said to their shame, 
some of them employed killers to protect their stock and 

— 270 — 



ranges and other privileges, and Ben could get any reason- 
able sum, from one hundred to several thousand dollars, 
with which to deal or play bank. 

Ben Thompson was the boss among the gamblers and 
killers at Austin, and a man whose name I have forgotten, 
Bishop, I think, a man of wealth and property, who owned 
saloons and dance halls and theaters at San Antonio, was 
the boss of the killers of that town. Great rivalry existed 
between these two men, and they were determined to 
kill each other. Word was brought to the San Antonio 
gent that Ben was coming down to kill him, so he had 
fair warning and made preparations. Ben arrived in 
town and walked in front of his saloon. He knew Ben 
was looking for the drop on him and would be sure to 
come back the same way, so he stationed himself behind 
his screen in front of his door, with a double-barreled 
shotgun. Whether Ben was wise to this, I do not know, 
but when Ben came back, he fired through this screen, 
and the San Antonio man fell dead with a bullet hole in 
his head, and both barrels of his gun were discharged 
into the floor. 

Ben was now surely the boss, and numerous friends 
flocked to his standard, for ''nothing succeeds like suc- 
cess.^* Some say that this victory made Ben too reckless 
and fool-hardy, however. 

Some time after this, the cattle men gathered in 
Austin at a big convention. At this convention, Ben 
was more dissipated and reckless than ever, and cut a big 
figure. There was a congressman who resided at Austin, 
who was Ben's lawyer and friend (I won't mention his 
name). After the convention adjourned, thirty or forty 
of the principal stock men and residents of Texas re- 
mained to close up business and give a grand banquet 
(and let me say right here, these men were no cowards). 
That night, Ben learned that they had not invited his 
congressman, to which slight he took exceptions. The 

— 271 — 



plates were all laid, wine at each plate, and just as they 
were about to be seated, in marched Ben with a six- 
shooter in his hand. He began at one end of the long 
table and smashed the bottles of wine, and chinaware 
as he came to, it, making a clean sweep the entire length 
of the table. Let me tell you, before he got half through 
with his smashing process, that banquet hall was deserted. 
Some rushed through the doors, some took their exit 
through the windows, and in some instances the sash of 
the windows went with them and they did not stop to 
deprive themselves of it until they were out of range. 

This exploit sounded Ben's death knell, as I remarked 
at the time that it would, because I knew these men. 

Major Seth Mabrey was asked, the next day, what 
he thought of Ben's performance. Mabrey had a little 
twang in his speech and talked a little through his nose. 
In his slow and deliberate way, he said: "By Ginneys! 
I always thought, until last night, that Ben Thompson j 
was a brave man, but I have changed my mind. If he 
had been a brave man, he would have attacked the whole 
convention when Ave Avere together and three thousand 
strong, but instead, he let nearly all of them get out of 
town, and cut off a little bunch of only about forty of us, 
and jumped onto us." I 

After this, the plans were laid to get away with Ben. 
He was invited to visit San Antonio and have one of the 
good old time jamborees, and they would make it a rich 
treat for him. He accepted. They gave a big show at 
the theater for his especial benefit. When the ''ball" 
was at its height, he was invited to the bar to take a » 
drink, and, at a given signal, a dozen guns were turned * 
loose on him. They say that some who were at the bar 
with him and who enticed him there were killed with him, f 
as they had to shoot through them to reach Ben. At any 
rate, Ben never knew what hit him, he was shot up 
so badly. They were determined to make a good job o$ 

— 272 — 



it, for if they did not, they knew the consequences. Major 
Mabrey was indeed a cool, deliberate, and brave man, 
but he admitted to outrunning the swiftest of them. 

Major Mabrey would hire more than a hundred men 
every spring, for the drive, and it is said of him, that he 
never hired a man himself and looked him over carefully 
and had him sign a contract, that in months after he 
could not call him by name and tell when and where h6 
had hired him. 

The Major built the first castle or palatial residence 
on top of the big bluff overlooking the railroad yards 
and the Missouri River, in Kansas City, about where 
Keeley's Institute now stands. 

One of the most remarkable characters that ever 
came up the trail, and one whom I am going to give more 
than a passing notice, on account of his most remarkable 
career, is Ben Hodges, the horse-thief and outlaw. 

A Mexican, or rather, a half-breed — half negro and 
half Mexican — came up with the first herds of cattle that 
made their way to Dodge. He was small of stature, wiry, 
and so very black that he was christened, "Nigger Ben." 
His age was non-come-at-able. Sometimes he looked 
young, not over twenty or twenty-five; then, again, he 
would appear to be at least sixty, and, at the writing 
of this narrative, he is just the same, and still resides 
in Dodge City. 

Ben got stranded in Dodge City and was minus 
friends and money, and here he had to stay. At about 
the time he anchored in Dodge City, there was great 
excitement over the report that an old Spanish grant was 
still in existence, and that the claim was a valid one and 
embraced a greater part of the "Prairie Cattle Com- 
pany's" range. 

While the stock men were discussing this, sitting 
on a bench in front of my store (Wright, Beverly & Com- 
pany), Nigger Ben came along. Just as a joke, one of 

— 273 -^ 



them said: "Ben, you are a descendent of these old 
Spanish families; why don't you put in a claim as heir 
to this grant?" Ben cocked up his ears and listened, 
took the cue at once, and went after it. As a novice, he 
succeeded in a way beyond all expectations. By degrees, 
he worked himself into the confidence of newcomers by 
telling them a pathetic story, and so, by slow degrees, 
he built upon his story, a little at a time, until it seemed 
to a stranger that Ben really did have some sort of a 
claim on this big grant, and, like a snowball, it con- 
tinually grew. He impressed a bright lawyer with the 
truthfulness of his story, and this lawyer carefully pre- 
pared his papers to lay claim to the grant, and it began 
to look bright. Then Judge Sterry of Emporia, Kan., 
took the matter up and not only gave it his time but 
furnished money to prosecute it. Of course, it was a 
good many years before his claim received recognition, 
as it had to be heard in one of our highest courts. But, 
in course of time, years after he began the action, it 
came to an end, as all things must, and the court got 
down to an investigation and consideration of the facts. 
It did not last but a moment, and was thrown out of court. 
Not the least shadow of a claim had Ben, but it was 
surprising how an ignorant darkey could make such a 
stir out of nothing. 

Now, while this litigation was going on. Nigger Ben 
was not idle, for he started lots of big schemes and deals. 
For instance, he claimed to own thirty-two sections of 
land in Gray county, Kansas. About the time the United 
States Land Office was moved from Larned to Garden 
City, Kansas, the Wright-Beverly store at Dodge burned, 
and their large safe tumbled into the debris in the base- 
ment, but the safe was a good one and nothing whatever 
in it was destroyed by the fire. This safe was used by 
the Texas drovers as a place in which to keep their money 
and valuable papers. Ben knew this, and, when the 
government land office was established at Garden City, 

--274 — 




o 



o 



fa 

o 

o 



Ben wrote the officials and warned them not to take any 
filings on the thirty-two sections of land in Gray county, 
minutely describing the land by quarter sections. He 
told them that cowboys had filed on and proved up all 
these tracts and sold them to him, and that he had placed 
all the papers pertaining to the transactions in Wright, 
Beverly & Company's safe, and that the papers were all 
destroyed by the fire. Now, to verify this, he had written 
to the treasurer of Gray County to make him a tax list 
of all these lands, which he did, and Ben would show 
these papers to the 'Henderfeet" and tell them he owned 
all this land, and iustanter attached them as supporters 
and friends, for no man could believe that even Ben 
could be such a monumental liar, and they thought that 
there must surely be some truth in his story. 

He went to the president of the Dodge City National 
Bank, who was a newcomer, showed him the letter he 
received from the treasurer of Gray County, with a state- 
ment of the amount of tax on each tract of land, and, 
as a matter of course, this bank official supposed that he 
owned the land, and, upon Ben's request, he wrote him a 
letter of credit, reciting that he (Ben) was said to be the 
owner of thirty-two sections of good Kansas land and 
supposed to be the owner of a large Mexican land grant 
in New Mexico, on which were gold and silver mines, 
and quite a large town. He then went to the presidents 
of the other Dodge City banks and, by some means, 
strange to say, he got nearly as strong endorsements. As 
a joke, it is here related that these letters stated that Ben 
was sober and industrious, that he neither drank nor 
smoked; further, he was very economical, his expenses 
very light, that he was careful, that he never signed any 
notes or bonds, and never asked for like accomodations. 

On the strength of these endorsements and letters, he 
bargained for thousands of cattle, and several herds were 
delivered at Henrietta and other points. Cattle advanced 

— 275 — 



in price materially tliat spring, and the owners were 
glad that Ben could not comply with his contracts to 
take them. 

Quite a correspondence was opened by eastern cap- 
italists and Omaha bankers with Ben, with a view to 
making him large loans of money, and, in the course of 
the negotiations, his letters were referred to me, as well 
as the Dodge City banks and other prominent business 
men for reports, here. 

It is astounding and surprising what a swath Ben cut 
in commercial and financial circles. Besides, he success- 
fully managed, each and every year, to get passes and 
annual free transportation from the large railroad sys- 
tems. How he did it is a mystery to me, but he did it. 
If he failed with one official, he would try another, 
representing that he had large shipments of cattle to 
make from Texas and New Mexico, Indian Territory, 
and Colorado. He could just print his name, and he got 
an annual over the Fort Worth & Denver, and the writing 
of his name in the pass did not look good enough to Ben, 
so he erased it and printed his name in his own way. 
This was fatal; the first conductor took up his pass and 
put him off the train at Amarillo, Texas, and Ben had to 
beat his way back to Dodge City. 

John Lytle and Major Conklin made a big drive, one 
spring, of between thirty and forty herds. They were 
unfortunate in encountering storms, and on the way, a 
great many of their horses and cattle were scattered. 
Each herd had its road brand. Mr. Lytle was north, 
attending to the delivery of the stock; Major Conklin 
was in Kansas City, attending to the firm's business 
there ; and Martin Culver was at Dodge City, passing on 
the cattle when they crossed the Arkansas Eiver. Mr. 
Culver offered to pay one dollar per head for their cattle 
that were picked up, and two dollars per head for horses ; 
and he would issue receipts for same which served as an 
order for the money on Major Conklin. Ben Hodges 

— 276^ 



knew all this and was familiar with their system of trans- 
acting business. Ben managed to get to Kansas City on 
a stock train, with receipts for several hundred cattle 
and a great many horses, supposed to be signed by Culver 
(They were forgeries, of course). The receipts were for 
stock of the firm's different road brands, and Major 
Conklin was astonished when he saw them. He did not 
know Ben very well and thought he would speculate a 
little and offered payment at a reduced price from that 
agreed upon. He asked Ben what he could do for him to 
relieve his immediate necessities, and Ben got a new suit 
of clothes, or, rather, a complete outfit from head to foot, 
ten dollars in money, and his board paid for a week. In 
a few days Ben called for another ten dollars and another 
week's board, and these demands continued for a month. 
Ben kept posted, and came to Conkling one day in a great 
hurry and told him that he must start for Dodge City at 
once, on pressing business, and that he was losing a 
great deal of money staying in Kansas City, and should 
be on the range picking up strays. The Major told Ben 
that Mr. Lytle would be home in a few days and he 
wanted Lytle to make final settlement with him (Ben). 
This was what Ben was trying to avoid. John Lytle was 
the last person in the world that Ben wanted to see. He 
told Conkling this was impossible, that he must go at 
once, and got twenty dollars and transportation to Dodge 
City from Conkling. 

A few days afterwards, Lytle returned to Kansas 
City, and, in a crowd of stock men, at the St. James 
Hotel, that were sitting around taking ice in theirs every 
half hour and having a good time, Major Conkling very 
proudly produced his bunch of receipts he had procured 
from Ben in the way of compromise, as above related, and 
said: ''John, I made a shrewd business deal and got 
your receipts for several hundred cattle and horses for 
less than half price, from Ben Hodges." Enough had 
been said. All the cattle men knew Ben, and both the 

— 277 — 



laugh and the drinks were on Conkling. He never heard 
the last of it and many times afterwards had to ^'set 
up" the drinks for taking advantage of an ignorant 
darkey. He was completely taken in himself. 

One time Ben was in a hot box. It did look bad and 
gloomy for him. The writer did think truly and honestly 
that he was innocent, but the circumstantial evidence 
was so strong against him, he could hardly escape. I 
thought it was prejudice and ill feeling towards Ben, and 
nothing else, that induced them to bring the suit; and, 
what was worse for Ben, his reputation as a cattle thief 
and liar was very bad. 

Mr. Cady had quite a large dairy, and one morning 
he awoke and found his entire herd of milch cows gone. 
They could get no trace of them, and, after hunting high 
and low, they jumped Ben and, little by little, they wove 
a network of circumstantial evidence around him that 
sure looked like they would convict him of the theft 
beyond a doubt. The district court was in session, Ben 
was arrested, and I, thinking the darkey innocent, went 
on his bond. Indeed, my sympathies went out to him, 
as he had no friends and no money, and I set about his 
discharge under my firm belief of his innocence. 

I invited the judge down to my ranch at the fort to 
spend the night. He was a good friend of mine, but I 
hardly dared to advise him, but I thought I would throw 
a good dinner into the judge and, under the influence of 
a good cigar and a bottle of fine old wine, he would 
soften, and, in talking over old times, I would introduce 
the subject. I said, ''Judge, I know you are an honest, 
fair man and want to see justice done ; and you would 
hate to see an innocent, poor darkey, without any money 
or friends, sent to the pen for a crime he never com- 
mitted." And then I told him why I thought Ben was 
innocent. He said, *'I will have the very best lawyer at 
the bar take his case." I said, ''No, this is not at all 
what I want; I want Ben to plead his own case." So I 

— 278 — 



gave Ben a few pointers, and I knew after he got through 
pleading before that jury, they would either take him 
for a knave or a fool. 

I was not mistaken in my prophecy. Ben harangued 
that jury with such a conglomeration of absurdities and 
lies and outrageous tales, they did not know what to 
think. I tell you, they were all at sea. He said to them : 

"What! me? the descendent of old grandees of Spain, 
the owner of a land grant in New Mexico embracing mil- 
lions of acres, the owner of gold mines and villages and 
towns situated on that grant of whom I am sole owner, 
to steal a miserable, miserly lot of old cows? Why, the 
idea is absurd. No, gentlemen; I think too much of the 
race of men from which I sprang, to disgrace their 
memory. No, sir! no, sir! this Mexican would never be 
guilty of such. The reason they accuse me is because they 
are beneath me and jealous of me. They can't trot in my 
class, because they are not fit for me to associate with 
and, therefore, they are mad at me and take this means 
to spite me." 

Then he would take another tack and say: ''I'se a 
poor, honest Mexican, ain't got a dollar, and why do they 
want to grind me down? Because dey know I am way 
above them by birth and standing, and dey feel sore over 
it." And then he w^ould go off on the wildest tangent 
you ever listened to. 

You could make nothing whatever out of it, and 
you'd rack your brains in trying to find out what he was 
trying to get at; and you would think he had completely 
wound himself up and would have to stop, but not he. 
He had set his mouth going and it w^ouldn't stop yet, and, 
in this way, did he amuse that jury for over two hours. 
Sometimes he would have the jury laughing until the 
judge would have to stop them, and again, he would have 
the jury in deep thought. They were only out a little 
while, when they brought in a verdict of not guilty. 

— 279 — 



Strange to say, a few days afterwards that whole 
herd of milch cows came wandering back home, none the 
worse for their trip. You see, Ben had stolen the cattle, 
drove them north fifty or sixty miles, and hid them in a 
deep canyon or arroya. He had to leave them after his 
arrest and there came up a big storm, from the north, 
which drove the cattle home. I was much surprised 
when the cattle came back, for I knew, then, what had 
happened and that he was guilty. 

I could fill a large book with events in the life of 
this remarkable fellow, but want of space compels me 
to close this narration here. 

The life of the cowboy, the most distinguished deni- 
zen of the plains, was unique. The ordinary cowboy, with 
clanking spurs and huge sombrero, was a hardened case, 
in many particulars, but he had a generous nature. Allen 
McCandless gives the character and life of the cowboy in, 
"The Cowboy's Soliloquy," in verse, as follows: 
"All o'er the prairies alone I ride, 
Not e 'en a dog to run by my side ; 
My fire I kindle Avith chips gathered round (*), 
And boil my coffee without being ground. 
Bread, lacking leaven, I bake in a pot. 
And sleep on the ground, for want of a cot. 
I wash in a puddle, and w^ipe on a sack. 
And carry my wardrobe all on my back. 
My ceiling's the sky, my carpet the grass. 
My music the lowing of herds as they pass ; 
My books are the brooks, my sermons the stones. 
My parson a wolf on a pulpit of bones. 
But then, if my cooking ain't very complete, 
Hygienists can't blame me for living to eat; 
And where is the man who sleeps more profound 
Than the cowboy, who stretches himself on the ground. 
My books teach me constancy ever to prize ; 
My sermons that small things I should not despise ; 
And my parson remarks, from his pulpit of bone, 

-^280 — 



That, ' The Lord favors them who look out for their own. ' 

Between love and me, lies a gulf very wide, 

And a luckier fellow may call her his bride ; 

But Cupid is always a friend to the bold, 

And the best of his arrows are pointed with gold. 

Friends gently hint I am going to grief ; 

But men must make money and women have beef. 

Society bans me a savage, from Dodge ; 

And Masons would ball me out of their lodge. 

If I 'd hair on my chin, I might pass for the goat 

That bore all the sin in the ages remote ; 

But why this is thusly, I don't understand, 

For each of the patriarchs owned a big brand. 

Abraham emigrated in search of a range, 

When water got scarce and he wanted a change ; 

Isaac had cattle in charge of Esau; 

And Jacob ^run cows' for his father-in-law — 

He started business clear down at bed-rock. 

And made quite a fortune, watering stock; 

David went from night herding and using a sling, 

To winning a battle and being a king ; 

And the shepherds, when watching their flocks on the 

hill, 
Heard the message from heaven, of peace and good will." 

(*) *' Chips" were dried droppings of the cattle. Buf- 
falo "chips" were used as fuel by the plainsmen. 

Another description of the cowboy, different in char- 
acter from the last, but no less true to life, is from an 
exchange, in 1883. 

''The genuine cowboy is worth describing. In many 
respects, he is a wonderful creature. He endures hard- 
ships that would take the lives of most men, and is, there- 
fore, a perfect type of physical manhood. He is the finest 
horseman in the world, and excells in all the rude sports 
of the field. He aims to be a dead shot, and universally 
is. Constantly, during the herding season, he rides sev- 
enty miles a day, and most of the year sleeps in the open 

-. 281 — 



air. His life in the saddle makes him worship his horse, 
and it, with a rifle and six-shooter, complete his happiness. 
Of vice, in the ordinary sense, he knows nothing. He is 
a rough, uncouth, brave, and generous creature, who 
never lies or cheats. It is a mistake to imagine that they 
are a dangerous set. Any one is as safe with them as 
with any people in the world, unless he steals a horse 
or is hunting for a fight. In their eyes, death is a mild 
punishment for horse stealing. Indeed, it is the very 
highest crime knoAvn to the unwritten law of the ranch. 
Their life, habits, education, and necessities have a ten- 
dency to breed this feeling in them. But with all this 
disregard of human life, there are less murderers and cut- 
throats graduated from the cowboy, than from among 
the better class of the east, who come out here for venture 
or gain. They delight in appearing rougher than they 
are. To a tenderfoot, as they call an eastern man, they 
love to tell blood curdling stories, and impress him with 
the dangers of the frontier. But no man need get into 
a quarrel with them unless he seeks it, or get harmed 
unless he seeks some crime. They often own an interest 
in the herd they are watching, and very frequently 
become owners of ranches. The slang of the range they 
always use to perfection, and in season or out of season. 
Unless you wish to insult him, never offer a cowboy pay 
for any little kindness he has done you or for a share 
of his rude meal. If the changes that are coming to stock 
raising should take the cowboy from the ranch, its most 
interesting features will be gone." 

Theodore Roosevelt gave an address, once, up in 
South Dakota, which is readable in connection with the 
subject in hand. ''My friends seem to think," said Roose- 
velt, "that I can talk only on two subjects — the bear and 
the cowboy — and the one I am to handle this evening is 
the more formidable of the two. After all, the cowboys 
are not the ruffians and desperadoes that the nickel 
library prints them. Of course, in the frontier towns 

— 282 — 



where the only recognized amusements are vices, there is 
more or less of riot and disorder. But take the cowboy 
on his native heath, on the round-up, and you will find in 
him the virtues of courage, endurance, good fellowship, 
and generosity. He is not sympathetic. The cowboy 
divides all humanity into two classes, the sheep and the 
goats, those who can ride bucking horses and those who 
can't; and I must say he doesn't care much for the 
goats. 

'*I suppose I should be ashamed to say that I take the 
western view of the Indian. I don't go so far as to think 
that the only good Indian is the dead Indian, but I 
believe nine out of every ten are, and I shouldn't like 
to inquire too closely into the case of the tenth. The 
most vicious cowboy has more moral principle than the 
average Indian. Take three hundred low families of New 
York and New Jersey, support them, for fifty years, in 
vicious idleness, and you will have some idea of what the 
Indians are. Reckless, revengeful, fiendishly cruel, they 
rob and murder, not the cowboys who can take care of 
themselves, but the defenseless, lone settlers of the plains. 
As for the soldiers, an Indian chief once asked Sheridan 
for a cannon. 'What! do you want to kill my soldiers 
with it?' asked the general. 'No,' replied the chief, 
'Want to kill cowboy; kill soldier with a club.' 

"Ranch life is ephemeral. Fences are spreading all 
over the western country, and, by the end of the century, 
most of it will be under cultivation. I, for one, shall be 
sorry to see it go; for when the cowboy disappears, one 
of the best and healthiest phases of western life will dis- 
appear with him." 

Probably every business has its disadvantages, and 
one of the great pests of the cattle man and cowboy 
was the loco weed. This insiduous weed, which baffled 
the skill of the amateur, was a menace to the cattle and 
horse industry. The plant was an early riser in the 

— 283 — 



spring season, and this early bloom was nipped as a 
sweet morsel by the stock. Once infected by the weed, 
stock never recovered. The government chemist never 
satisfactorily traced the origin of the supposed poison of 
the weed. Stock allowed to run at large on this weed, 
without other feed, became affected by a disease re- 
sembling palsy. Once stock acquired a taste for the weed, 
they could not be kept from it, and never recovered, but, 
by degrees, died a slow death. 

Like its disadvantages, every business probably has 
its own peculiar words and phrases, and in this the cattle 
business was not deficient. For instance, the word, 
** maverick," is very extensively used among stock men 
all over the country, and more particularly in localities 
where there is free or open range. I am told the word 
originated in this way. A gentleman, in very early times, 
soon after Texas gained her independence, moved into 
Texas from one of our southern states, with a large herd 
of cattle and horses, all unbranded. He was astonished 
to see everyone's stock branded and ear-marked, which 
was not the custom in the country he came from; so he 
asked his neighbors if they all branded. Oh, yes, they all 
branded, without an exception. So he said, "If everyone 
brands but myself, I will just let mine go, as I think it is 
a cruel practice, anyway, and you all will know my stock 
by its not being branded." His neighbors thought that 
was a good idea, but it did not work well for Mr. Mav- 
erick, as he had no cattle, to speak of, after a few years; 
certainly, he had no increase. 

The **dead line" was a term much heard among stock 
men in the vicinity of Dodge City. As has been stated, 
the term had two meanings, but when used in connection 
with the cattle trade it was an imaginary line running 
north, a mile east of Dodge City, designating the bounds 
of the cattle trail. Settlers were always on the alert to 
prevent the removal or extension of these prescribed 

— 284 — 



limits of driving cattle, on account of danger of the 
Texas cattle fever. An effort being made to extend the 
line beyond Hodgeman county, was promptly opposed 
by the citizens of that county, in a petition to the Kansas 
legislature. 

The long-horned, long-legged Texas cow has been 
dubbed the "Mother of the West." A writer sings the 
song of the cow and styles her, "the queen," and, in the 
"Song of the Grass," this may be heard above the din 
that "cotton is king." A well known Kansan has said 
that grass is the forgiveness of nature, and, truly, the 
grass and the cow are main food supplies. When the 
world has absorbed itself in the production of the neces- 
saries of food and clothing, it must return to the grass 
and the cow to replenish the stock exhausted in by- 
products. 

At Dodge City now, however, the open range and the 
cattle drive have been supplanted by the wheat field 
and the grain elevator. In the early times, cattle men 
and grangers made a serious struggle to occupy the 
lands. But destiny, if so it may be called, favored the 
so-termed farmer, "through many difficulties to the 
stars." The time and the occasion always affords the 
genius in prose and rhyme. The literary merit is not con- 
sidered, so that the "take-off" enlivens the humor of the 
situation; so here is "The Granger's Conquest," in 
humorous vein, by an anonymous writer: 

"Up from the South, comes every day. 

Bringing to stockmen fresh dismay, 

The terrible rumble and grumble and roar, 

Telling the battle is on once more. 

And the granger but twenty miles away. 

"And wider, still, these billows of war 
Thunder along the horizon's bar; 
And louder, still, to our ears hath rolled 
The roar of the settler, uncontrolled, 

— 285-^ 



Making the blood of the stockmen cold, 

As he thinks of the stake in this awful fray, 

And the granger but fifteen miles away. 

'^And there's a trail from fair Dodge town, 
A good, broad highway, leading down; 
And there, in the flash of the morning light, 
Goes the roar of the granger, black and white 
As on to the Mecca they take their flight. 
As if they feel their terrible need, 
They push their mule to his utmost speed ; 
And the long-horn bawls, by night and day, 
With the granger only five miles away. 

''And the next will come the groups 

Of grangers, like an army of troops; 

What is done ? what to do ? a glance tells both. 

And into the saddle, with scowl and oath ; 

And we stumble o 'er plows and harrows and hoes. 

As the roar of the granger still louder grows, 

And closer draws, by night and by day. 

With his cabin a quarter-section away. 

''And, when under the Kansas sky 

We strike a year or two that is dry. 

The granger, who thinks he's awful fly, 

Away to the kin of his wife will hie; 

And then, again, o'er Kansas plains, 

Uncontrolled, our cattle will range, 

As we laugh at the granger who came to stay, 

But is now a thousand miles away." 



— 286 — 



CHAPTER XVI 

Distinguished Sojourners at Fort Dodge and Dodge City 

Now I want to tell you something of the great officers 
who came to Fort Dodge in the early days. 

General Phillip Sheridan first came to Fort Dodge 
in the summer of 1868. He pitched his camp on the hill 
north of the fort and next to my house. I saw a good 
deal of him while fitting out his command against the 
Indians, and he dined with me several times, together 
with the officers of the post. On one of these occasions, 
about noon, on the hills to the southwest, we saw with 
strong field-glasses what seemed to be a body of horse- 
men or a bunch of buffalo. But they moved so straight 
and uniformly that we finally came to the conclusion that 
they must be Indians. As the apparition came nearer we 
discovered that it was but one ambulance mth a long 
pole lashed to it, with a wagon-sheet attached to the pole 
for a flag of true. It was the largest flag of truce ever 
used for such purpose. The driver proved to be Little 
Raven, chief of the Arapahoes, who had come in to have 
a peace talk with General Sheridan. As a result of the 
long talk, Little Raven badly out-generaled Sheridan 
(as has been related in another chapter). He said all 
the time he wanted was two sleeps to bring in the whole 
Arapahoe tribe. General Sheridan said to take a week 
and see that all came in. The old chief insisted that he 
only wanted two sleeps. He started out the next morn- 
ing loaded down with bacon, beans, flour, sugar, and 
coffee. Little Raven told me afterwards it was a great 
ruse to avoid the soldiers until they could get the women 
and children out of danger. When Little Raven set out 
for Dodge, the women and children had started south, to 
get into the broken and rough country that they knew 
so well, and with which our soldiers were so little ac- 

— 287 — 



qiiainted at that day. It was really laughable to hear his 
description of how he disposed of his ambulance after 
getting back to the tribe. He said the soldiers followed 
the tracks of the ambulance for days, so his rear-guard 
would report at night. The other Indians were for burn- 
ing it or abandoning it; but Little R^ven said he prized 
it so highly that he did not want to lose it. So they took 
off the wheels, and hung them in some very high trees, 
and concealed the body in a big drift in the river, cover- 
ing it with driftwood. 

The last visit General Sheridan made at Dodge was 
in 1872. He brought his whole staff with him. General 
Forsyth was his aide-de-camp, I think, and his brother, 
Mike, was along. I had known Mike for some time before 
this, when he was captain in the Seventh Cavalry. I was 
also well acquainted with the other brother, who held a 
clerkship at Camp Supply — a most excellent gentleman. 
During his stay. General Sheridan and his staff, with the 
officers of the post, were dining at my house. They had 
all been drinking freely before dinner of whisky, brandy, 
and punch, except Mike Sheridan. These liquors were 
all left in the parlor when we went in to dinner, and there 
was an abundance of light wine on the dinner-table. 
When dinner was nearly over an important dispatch came. 
The General read it and handed it to General Forsyth, 
requesting him to answer it. With that Captain Sheridan 
jumped up and said to General Forsyth: "You are not 
half through your dinner yet, and I am ; so let me answer, 
and submit to you for review." He then requested me to 
get paper and pen and go with him to the parlor. As 
soon as we reached the parlor the Captain grabbed me 
by the arm, and said, "For God's sake, Wright, get me 
some of that good brandy, and say not a word about it." 
I replied, "There it is. Help yourself." He took two 
generous glasses and then wrote the dispatch. 

The last time I had the pleasure of seeing General 
Sheridan was at Newton. I was on my way to Kansas 

— 288 — 



City, and stopped there to get supper. I was told that 
General Sheridan was in his private car. I called on him 
as soon as I got my supper. He knew me in a minute and 
received me most graciouslj^ Not so with the brother, 
Captain Mike, whom I had taken care of many times and 
seen that he was properly put to bed. He pretended not 
to know me. ''Why," said the General, ''You ought to 
know Mr. "Wright. He was the sutler at Fort Dodge, 
and so often entertained us at his home. ' ' I responded to 
the General that I was surprised that he knew me so 
quickly. "I knew you as soon as I saw you," he replied, 
and then began to inquire about all the old scouts and 
mule drivers, and wanted to know what they were doing 
and where they had drifted, including many men whom 
I had forgotten, until he mentioned their names. He 
said that he had been sent down by President Cleveland 
to inquire into the Indian leases entered into by the cattle 
men. We talked about old times and old faces way into 
midnight, and even then he did not want me to go. 

In the fall of 1868 General Alfred Sully took com- 
mand of Fort Dodge and fitted out an expedition for a 
winter campaign against the Plains Indians. He was one 
of the grand old style of army officers, kind-hearted and 
true, a lover of justice and fair play. Though an able 
officer and a thorough gentleman at all times, he was a 
little too much addicted to the drink habit. When Gen- 
eral Sully had gotten the preparations for the expedition 
well under way, and his army ready to march. General 
Custer was placed in command by virtue of his brevet 
rank, and the old man was sent home. This action, as I 
am told, broke General Sully's heart, and he was never 
again any good to the service. 

General Custer carried out the winter campaign, per- 
sistently following the Indians through the cold and snow 
into their winter fastnesses, where never white man had 
trod before, not even the trusted trader, until he surprised 
them in their winter camp on the Washita, south of the 

— 289 — 



Canadian. There was a deep snow on the ground at the 
time. The scouts had com€ in soon after midnight with 
the report of a big camp. "Boots and saddles" was 
sounded, and soon all were on the march. The command 
reached the vicinity of the Indian camp some time before 
daylight, but waited until the first streak of day, which 
w^as the signal for the charge. Then the wiiole force went 
into the fight, the regimental band playing, "Gary 
Owen." They charged through the camp and back, cap- 
turing or killing every warrior in sight. But the camp 
was the first of a series of Indian camps extending down 
the narrow valley of the Washita for perhaps ten miles, 
and Custer had only struck the upper end of it. 

I have been told by good authority that early in the 
attack Major Elliott's horse ran away with him, taking 
him down the creek. Elliott was followed by some twenty 
of his men, they thinking, of course, that he was charging 
the Indians. It was but a few moments until he was 
entirely cut off, and urged on further from General Cus- 
ter's main force. Custer remained in the Indian camp, 
destroying the tents and baggage of the Indians, until 
in the afternoon, and finally, after the Indian women 
captives had selected the ponies they chose to ride, de- 
stroyed the balance of the herd, about eight hundred 
ponies in all. He then left the camp, following the stream 
do^vn to the next village, which he found deserted. It 
was then dusk. When night had fallen he retraced his . 
way with all speed to the first village, and out by the f 
way he had come in the morning, toward Camp Supply. 
He continued his march until he came up with his pack- 
train, which, having been under the protection of only | 
eighty men, he had feared w^ould be captured by the 
Indians, had he allowed it to have come on alone. 

Now, I do not want to judge Custer too harshly, for 
I know him to have been a brave and dashing soldier, 
and he stood high in my estimation as such, but I have 
often heard his officers say that it was a cowardly deed 

— 290 — 



II 



to have gone off and left Elliott in the way he did. Many 
officers claim that Cnster realized that he was surrounded 
and outnumbered by the Indians, and this was the reason 
he left Elliott as he did. The facts are that he should 
never have attacked the village until he had more thor- 
oughly investigated the situation and knew what he was 
running into. Some of his own officers have condemned 
and censured him, talking about him scandalously for 
thus leaving Elliott. I cannot, however, see how he could 
have been badly whipped when he brought away with him 
about fifty-seven prisoners, besides having captured and 
killed so large a number of ponies. 

This is the story of Major Elliott as told to me by 
Little Raven, chief of the Arapahoes, but who was not 
present at the time. He was my friend, and I always 
found him truthful and fair. He said that, when Major 
Elliott's horse ran away with him, followed by about 
twenty of his men, Elliott was soon cut off and surrounded 
by hundreds of Indians, who drove him some three to 
five miles from Custer's main body at the village, bravely 
fighting at every step. After getting him well away from 
Custer, the Indians approached him with a flag of truce, 
telling him that Custer was surrounded and unable to give 
him any help, and that, if he and his men would sur- 
render, they would be treated as prisoners of war. Elliott 
told them he would never give up. He would cut his way 
back to Custer, or that Custer would send a detachment 
to his relief sooner or later. As soon as this announce- 
ment was made the young men who had gotten closer, 
without further warning, and before Elliott could prop- 
erly protect himself, poured in volley after volley, mow- 
ing down most of Elliott's horses. He then commanded 
his men to take to the rocks afoot, and to keep together 
as close as possible, until they could find some suitable 
protection where they could make a stand. They did this 
and stood the Indians off for nearly two days, without 
food or water, and almost without sleep or ammunition. 

— 291 — 



They were then again approached with a flag of truce. 
This time they told Elliott it was impossible for him to 
get away, which he fully realized. They said that Custer 
had been gone for two days in full retreat to Supply, and 
that he had taken with him fifty of their women and 
children, whom he would hold as hostages, and that if he 
and his men would lay down their arms they would be 
treated fairly, and held as hostages for the good treatment 
and safety of their women and children. They repeated 
that Custer would be afraid to be harsh or cruel or 
unkind to their women and children because he knew 
that, if he was, Major Elliott and his soldiers would be 
subject to the same treatment. Elliott explained the 
whole thing to his men, and reasoned with them that 
under these circumstances the Indians could not help but 
be fair. The consequences was that Elliott and his men 
accepted the terms and laid down their arms. No sooner 
had they done so than the Indians rushed in and killed 
the last one of them. The older Indians claimed that they 
could not restrain their young men. I have no doubt that 
this is the true story, and that thus perished one of the 
bravest officers with a squad of the bravest men in our 
whole army. The only other officer killed in the fight 
was Captain Hamilton, when the first charge was made. 
He was a bright fellow, full of life and fun. 

Among the other great men who came to Dodge City 
was ''Uncle Billy Sherman," as he introduced himself. 
He came with President Hayes and party in September, 
1879. The president did not get out of his car, and would 
not respond to the call of the cowboys, who felt that 
they deserved some recognition. It was a long time even 
before "Old Tecumseh," could be induced to strike the 
pace and lead off. But the cheerfulness, the hilarity, 
and the endless jokes of the half-drunken cowboys, who 
had been holloing for the President until they had 
become disgusted because of his lack of interest in them, 
induced the general to appear. Then they called for 

— 292 — 



Sherman in a manner indicating that they considered 
him their equal and an old comrade. Although half of 
those cowboys had been soldiers in the Confederate army, 
this seemed to make no difference in their regard for the 
old war-horse. They had an intuitive feeling that, no 
matter how they scandalized him, Sherman would be fair 
and treat them justly. I was astonished that their sur- 
mise was right, for when General Sherman appeared he 
handed them bouquet for bouquet. No matter on what 
topic they touched, or what questions they asked, he gave 
them back as good as they sent, answering them in the 
same generous humor. Before the close of the General's 
talk some of the crowd were getting pretty drunk, and I 
looked to see a display of bad feeling spring up, but 
nothing of the kind occurred, for the General was equal 
to the occasion and handled the crowd most beautifully. 
Indeed, it was laughable at times, when the General rose 
way above his surroundings and sat down on their coarse, 
drunken jokes so fitly and admirably, that one could not 
help but cheer him. He had the crowd with him all the 
while and enlisted their better feeling, notwithstanding 
more than half of them were Southern sympathizers. 

President Hayes paid but little attention to the crowd 
the whole day, nor the crowd to him, but General Sher- 
man kept it in good humor, and the presidential party at 
last left Dodge City amid strong cheers for ''Uncle Billy,'* 
a long life and a happy one. 

In a previous chapter mention was made of the visits 
of Senator Ingalls and of the Major-General who was 
once second in command at Gettysburg. These were fair 
representatives of the class of distinguished visitors who 
came especially for sight-seeing. 

One Thursday the citizens of Dodge City were agree- 
ably surprised by the arrival, in their midst, of the once 
famous political boss of the state, Ex-Governor Thomas 
Carney, of Leavenworth. He was observed in close com- 

— 293 — 



inunion with one of our leading citizens, Honorable R. W. 
Evans. 

The Governor said he was buying hides and bones 
for a large firm in St. Louis, of which he was president, 
but he told some of his old-time friends of Dodge that 
he was here to hunt up a poker game, in which game he 
was an expert, and he wanted to teach the gamblers of 
Dodge a lesson, and give them some pointers for their 
future benefit. The governor's reputation and dignified 
bearing soon enabled him to decoy three of our business 
men into a social game of poker, as the governor remarked, 
''just to kill time, you know." 

The governor's intended victims were Colonel Norton, 
wholesale dealer, the "Honorable" Bobby Gill, and 
Charles Eonan, old time friends of his, formerly from 
Leavenworth. The game proceeded merrily and festively 
for a time until, under the bracing influence of exhil- 
arating refreshments, the stakes were greatly increased 
and the players soon became excitedly interested. At 
last the governor held what he supposed to be an invinci- 
ble hand. It consisted of four kings and cuter, which the 
governor very reasonably supposed to be the ace of 
spades. He had been warned about the cuter before he 
began the game. He said he understood the cuter to 
represent an ace or a flush and was accustomed to play- 
ing it that way. The old gentleman tried to repress his 
delight and appear unconcerned when Colonel Norton 
tossed a hundred dollar bill into the pot, but he saw the 
bet and went a hundred better. Norton did not weaken 
as the governor feared he would, but, nonchalantly, raised 
the old gent what he supposed was a fabulous bluff. Gov- 
ernor Carney's eyes glistened with joy, as he saw the pile 
of treasure, which would soon be all his own, loom up 
before his vision, and he hastened to "see" the colonel 
and added the remainder of his funds, his elegant gold 
watch and chain. Norton was still in the game, and the 

— 294 — 



governor finally stripped himself of all remaining val- 
uables, when it became necessary for him to show up his 
hand. 

A breathless silence pervaded the room as Governor 
Carney spread his four kings and cuter on the table with 
his left hand, and affectionately encircled the glittering 
heap of gold and silver, greenbacks and precious stones, 
with his right arm, preparatory to raking in the spoils. 
But at that moment, a sight met the old governor's gaze 
which caused his eyes to dilate with terror, a fearful 
tremor to seize his frame, and his vitals to almost freeze 
with horror. 

Right in front of Colonel Norton was spread four 
genuine and perfecth^ formed aces, and the hideous reality 
that four aces laid over four kings and the cuter grad- 
ually forced itself upon the mind of our illustrious hide 
and hone merchant. Slowly and reluctantly he uncoiled 
his arm from around the sparkling treasure, the bright, 
joyous look faded from his eyes leaving them gloomy and 
cadaverous, and, with a weary almost painful effort, he 
arose, and dragging his feet over the floor like balls of 
lead, he left the room sadly muttering, "I forgot about 
the cuter." 

Now, the governor's old friends, R. M. Wright and 
R. W. Evans had warned him and pleaded with him not 
to try gambling here, and even watched him all the morn- 
ing to keep him out of michief ; but he stole away from 
them and got into this game which was awaiting him. 
Through his friends he recovered his watch and chain 
and they saw him safely on the train in possession of a 
ticket for St. Louis. 

As a character figuring conspicuously in the visit of 
Senator Ingalls to Dodge City, I must mention my horse, 
Landsmann. Or better, I will let his story be told in its 
greater part by Miss Carrie DeVoe, who often rode with 
me behind the old horse, who was the only woman who 

— 295 — 



would ride behind him, and who would ride behind him 
with no one else but me, because she had so much confi- 
dence in my driving. I would often cover seventy-five 
miles a day, and fifty or sixty miles a day was easy work 
for him, while I have driven him about a hundred miles 
a day more than once, and over a hundred miles in 
twenty-four hours. Miss DeVoe 's story follows : 

'^ Robert M. Wright, who, in the early days, possessed 
thousands of acres of land scattered throughout the length 
and breadth of the short grass region, was the owner of a 
horse of such strange behavior that it deserves to go on 
record with the odd characters of the border. 

''Landsmann (a German word meaning friend or 
farmer) was originally the property of an officer who 
served under Maximillian in Mexico and afterwards wan- 
dered north into the United States, becoming, at length, 
a frontier county official. The horse accompanied his 
master through many dangers, and was spirited, though 
gentle and faithful. But, as he advanced in years, Lands- 
mann was supposed to become addicted to the loco weed, 
for a change was noticeable. It was no easy matter to 
put him in the harness ; he reared and plunged without the 
slightest provocation, and grew generally unmanage- 
able — *full of all around cussedness,' said Joe, who 
usually fed and cared for him. However, because of his 
remarkable endurance, Mr. Wright purchased him for a 
driving horse. 

"Invariably, when the owner essayed to step into the 
cart, Landsmann sprang forward, and his master was 
obliged to leap to the seat or measure his length upon 
the ground, sometimes perilously near to the wheels. 
When the horse came to a halt, which was difficult to 
accomplish, the driver was often taken unawares and 
hurled forward over the traces for a short bareback 
exhibition. 

" Landsmann 's chief peculiarity was his speed. He 
dashed over the prairies at a surprising rate, down into 

— 296 — 



draws and up the banks, over dry beds of rivers, across 
pastures and ranches, never seeming to tire, and allowing 
no obstacle to stop his mad race. John Gilpin 's renowned 
steed was tame in comparison. To be sure, this kind of 
travel was not without its inconveniences, as Pegasus 
sometimes fell in the harness; however, he always man- 
aged to pick himself up and sped onward as if possessed 
of the 'Old Nick,' which, indeed, many believed him to 
be. 

''When the late Senator John J. Ingalls visited Mr. 
Wright, he was invited to take a drive. Not being ac- 
quainted with Landsmann's reputation, he accepted. 
Nothing daunted by the animal's efforts to wrench himself 
from the man who stood at his head, the senator reached 
the seat in safety, and his host, with a flying leap, landed 
at his side. The \dsitor began to wish he had not been 
so hasty; but there was little time for reflection. A 
spring — a whirl — and they were off across the plains. 
Spectators caught a passing glimpse of the dignified 
statesman, wildly clutching the seat and bending his head 
to the wind. 

"It was an exciting experience and one hardly to be 
desired, but they returned in safety. The vitriolic senator 
was diplomatic. 

"Like most of the interesting characters out west, 
Landsmann is dead, and though he died in the harness, 
maneuvering as usual, his master insisted — and perhaps 
with good reason — that his untimely end was caused by 
poison. At any rate, the old horse ought to go down in 
history, as he was one of the landmarks of the short 
grass region." 

Miss DeVoe knew that no horse would attempt to 
pass Landsmann. The day before he died, after making 
more than fifty miles and coming into Dodge, he came 
in contact with a runaway team, and off started the old 
horse whom you would have thought was completely tired 

— 297 — 



out. But he ran all over Dodge, at a high rate of speed, 
before I could stop him. 

As Miss DeVoe says, I did think, at first, Landsmann 
was poisoned but he was loose in his stall and, in lying 
down, got his head under the manger, and died during the 
night, from the dangerous position he was in. 

And here I want to interpolate a little in order to 
give the gist of the conversation with Senator- Ingalls 
before taking the ride described. There was quite a 
crowd in front of the hotel, to pay respects to the senator 
when I invited him to ride to Fort Dodge with me. The 
crowd followed us to the livery stable, everyone saying 
to the senator, ''My God, Senator! don't ride behind that 
horse ; he will kill you. I would sooner give you my 
horse. ' ' Others said : ' ' Never do it. We will hire you a 
rig if you won't." The senator said, ''Bob, what is the 
matter with the horse?" I replied, "Nothing." "Why, 
then, are they making such a fuss?" asked the senator. 
' ' Oh, ' ' I said, ' ' they are a lot of geese and cowards ! Come 
on." He said, "Bob, is it safe?" I said, "Ain't I taking 
the same risk you are?" He said, "That is so ; crack your 
whip!" and away we went. He said, "Bob, is he so 
very dangerous ? " " You see him, don 't you ? " I answer- 
ed. "Yes, did he ever run away with you?" "Yes." 
' ' How many times ? " "I don 't know. " " Many times ? ' ' 
' ' Yes. " " Did he ever throw you out ? " " Yes. ' ' 

When we returned and were drinking a bottle of 
"ice-cold" together, the senator said: "Bob, that is the 
best G — d — horse for his looks I ever saw, and I never 
was more deceived in a horse. It is the fastest ten miles 
I ever drove." 

General Miles has been frequently mentioned in these 
pages, as a sojourner at Fort Dodge and Dodge City. I 
give here a letter from Mrs. Alice V. Brown, a former 
resident of Dodge City and Fort Dodge and a sergeant's 
wife, because it reflects my ideas of the gallant General 

— 298 — 



Miles. It is dated, Tongue River, M. T., May, 1867, and 
says : 

''We have been out twelve days on a scout. On our 
return, General Miles had gone out on an expedition with 
six hundred men. We expect them back about the last of 
May. Greneral Miles had a fight on the sixth of May. 
He returned today with four hundred ponies. He had 
four men of the Second Cavalry killed, and one officer 
and four men wounded. The fight took place near the 
Little Big Horn, where General Custer was killed. There 
were forty-seven Indians found dead on the field. The 
mounted infantry charged through the Indian camp. The 
only cavalry he had was four companies of the Second, 
and they fought well. They say General Miles is the 
only officer who ever led them yet, and speak very highly 
of him. We told them, before they went out, he would 
show them how to fight. Everything in the Indian camp 
was burned. This is the greatest victory yet. Red Horn, 
a chief of some note, made a treacherous attempt to kill 
General Miles. He came in, during the fight, with a flag 
of truce, and, as the General rode up close to him, he fired. 
He missed the general but killed one of the cavalry 
dead on the spot. That was Red Horn's last shot; he fell 
instantly, riddled with bullets. The general has had 
several close calls, but I believe this was the closest." 

The writer wishes he had space to pay a much deserv- 
ed tribute or compliment to General Miles, about his inde- 
fatigable trailing up of the Indians. His system is like 
the wild horse trailers ; when he strikes a scent, he never 
gives up until he has trailed Mr. Indian to earth, and 
compelled him to fight or surrender. 

Eddie Fo.y, one of the greatest comedians of our day, 
made his debut or about his first appearance at Dodge 
City. He dressed pretty loud and had a kind of Fifth 
Avenue swaggering strut, and made some distasteful jokes 
about the cowboys. This led up to their capturing Foy 

— 299 — 



by roping, fixing him up in picturesque style, ducking 
him, in a friendly way, in a horse trough, riding him 
around on horseback, and taking other playful familiari- 
ties with him, just to show their friendship for him. This 
dressing up and ducking of Eddie is positively vouched 
for by a lady with whom he boarded, and who still lives 
in Dodge City. The writer does not vouch for the story 
of the ducking, but he does know they played several 
pranks on him, which Foy took with such good grace that 
he thereby captured the cowboys completely. Every 
night his theater was crowded with them, and nothing he 
could do or say offended them ; but, on the contrary, they 
made a little god of him. The good people of Dodge 
have watched his upward career with pride and pleasure, 
and have always taken a great interest in him, and claim 
him as one of their boys, because it was here that he 
first began to achieve greatness. I think he played here 
the most of one summer, and then went to Leadville, 
Colorado, when and where he kept going up and up. His 
educated admirers here predicted a great future for him. 
This, the writer has heard them do, and, surely, he has not 
disappointed them. Here is further success and prosper- 
ity to you, Eddie, and may you live long and die happy ! 

In connection with noted individuals who, from time 
to time, honored Dodge City with their presence, usually 
coming from a distance and making a transient stay, it is 
well to mention a few of the leading residents of Dodge, 
to whose pluck and perseverance the town owed so much 
of its early fame and prosperity. No better beginning 
could be made, in this line, than by introducing the Mas- 
terson brothers. 

William Barclay Masterson, more familiarly called 
"Bat," by his friends, and one of the most notable char- 
acters of the West, was one of Dodge City's first citizens, 
and, for this reason if no other, deserves a space in my 
book. 

— 300 — 



He, with a partner, took a contract of grading a few 
miles of the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Pe Railroad, near 
Dodge. He was only eighteen years old at the time ; this 
was in the spring of 1872. He says that he never worked 
so hard in his life, in filling this contract, which they did, 
with a nice little profit to their credit, of whch he was 
very proud ; but his partner ran off with everything, leav- 
ing him flat broke. He said it nearly broke his heart, 
grieving over his loss and over the perfidy of his partner, 
as he was only a boy, and the world looked dark and 
dreary. But this misfortune proved a benefit to him 
eventually, as he gained a lot of experience from the 
episode, and had many hearty laughs over it afterwards. 

A stranger, hunting Bat one day, said to some per- 
sons, standing on a street corner, ''Can any of you tell me 
where I can find Bat Masterson? I never saw him, and 
would not know him if I met him. ' ' A lawyer spoke up, 
and said: ''Look for one of the most perfectly-made men 
you ever saw, as well as a well dressed, good looking 
fellow, and, when you see such a man, call him 'Bat' 
and you have hit the bull's eye." 

Notwithstanding they have talked and published Bat 
as a robber and murderer and everything else that is vile, 
there was nothing of the kind in his make-up. On the 
contrary. Bat is a gentleman by instinct. He is a man of 
pleasant manners, good address, and mild disposition 
until aroused, and then, for God's sake, look out! He is 
a leader of men and a natural bom general, always ac- 
complishing whatever he undertook. This is the reason he 
was sought after by the "gang" and recognized as their 
general. He has much natural ability and good hard 
common sense, and, if he had got started right. Bat, today,) 
would have been occupying a seat in the United States 
Senate, instead of being a reporter for a newspaper. 
There is nothing low down about him. He is high-toned 
and broad-minded, cool and brave. 

— 301 — 



In 1876 he became a candidate for sheriff of Ford 
county, of which Dodge is the county seat. Here is his 
announcement, as he wrote it, and as it appeared in the 
"Dodge City Times:" 

"At the earnest request o-f many citizens of Ford 
county, I have consented to run for the office of sheriff, 
at the coming election in this county. While earnestly 
soliciting the sufferages of the people, I have no pledges 
to make, as pledges are usually considered, before election, 
to be mere clap-trap. I desire to say to the voting public 
that I am no politician and shall make no combinations 
that would be likely to, in an\-wise, hamper me in the dis- 
charge of the duties of the office, and, should I be elected, 
will put forth my best efforts to so discharge the duties of 
the office that those voting for me shall have no occasion 
to regret having done so. 

"Respectfully, 

"W. B. MASTERSOrs" " 
The home paper said that, "Mr. W. B. Masterson is 
on the track for sheriff. Bat is well known as a young 
man of nerve and coolness in cases of danger. He has 
served on the police force of this city, and also as under- 
sheriff, and knows just how to gather in the sinners. He 
is well qualified to fill the office, and, if elected, will never 
shrink from danger." 

Giving to the life he had lived, it was urged by his 
opponents, during the canvass leading up to his election, 
and owing to the fact that Bat had grown to manhood 
under the free and easy conditions permeating a frontier 
community, that he would be too lenient with law 
breakers and evil doers ; but his metal was tried on this, 
soon after he was inducted into office. 

There was a train robbery committed at Kinsley, 
Kansas, and one Dave Rudebaugh was the main guy in 
the robbery. Rudebaugh was a very bold, bad man. This 
crime was not committed in Bat's jurisdiction, but in 

_ 302 — 



'another county; still, he gathered a posse, consisting of 
Dave Morrow (Prairie Dog Dave), Josiah Webb, and 
Charlie Bassett, and took the trail. He caught on to a 
scent that led them to Henry Lovell's cattle camp. The 
posse remained at this camp until the next day after their 
arrival. A terrible storm was raging, and Bat was certain 
that the robbers would seek this camp for shelter, which 
they did, and, by the adoption of strategic measures on 
the part of Bat and his men, they were captured without 
a shot being fired, notwithstanding these robbers were 
desperate men and heavily armed. The pursuit and well 
devised and well executed capture reflects credit, good 
judgTQcnt, and bravery upon all who engaged in it. 

The successful efforts of Sheriff W. B. Masterson 
in this capture, followed by other arrests remarkable in 
skill and judgment, entitles him to the unanimous accord 
of praise given him, at the time and since, and in which 
I join. 

Bat was a most loyal man to his friends. If anyone 
did him a favor, he never forgot it. I believe that if one 
of his friends was confined in jail and there was the least 
doubt of his innocence, he would take a crow-bar and 
*' jimmy" and dig him out, at the dead hour of midnight; 
and, if there were determined men guarding him, he 
would take these desperate chances. This was exempli- 
fied in his action in saving Billy Thompson. Billy and 
Ben Thompson, mentioned in a previous chapter, were 
brothers, high rollers, and desperate men, as well as 
gamblers. Billy was shot all to pieces in a gun play at 
Ogallallah, Nebraska. They wired Ben Thompson, at 
Dodge, about the shooting, but Ben had outlawed him- 
self at Ogallallah, was well known there, and had many 
enemies in the town. He did not dare to go. Bat and 
Ben were friends, and Bat said: ''I'll go, but he don't 
deserve it. ' ' But he promised Ben to bring Billy out. Now 
Bat was a stranger in Ogallallah, and Billy Thompson 
was at the only hotel there, desperately wounded and 

— 303 — 



shot all to pieces. The citizens were down on him, waiting 
for him to get well enough to hang him. The chances were 
desperate, and Bat knew it and had to keep under cover. 
By chance, Billy's nurse was an old-timer and a great 
admirer of Bat. By some chance unknown to anyone, 
Bat got to him, and the nurse was only too glad to help 
him all he could, secretly, of course, for the nurse knew 
the chances he was taking in helping Bat. Through this 
nurse. Bat got word to a lot of his friends as well as 
friends of Thompson, who wanted to help him if they 
could. This was their plan, and it succeeded admirably. 
"When the fast, west-bound express was heard to whistle 
at Ogallallah, at twelve o'clock that night, the friends 
of Thompson were to commence a sham battle at the 
big dance hall across the railroad track, some distance 
from the hotel, by a perfect fusilade of shots. Of course, 
everyone ran out of the hotel for the scene of action. 
Then Bat got the nurse to throw Billy Thompson across 
his shoulders and to follow with his clothes. 

Bat landed Billy in a sleeper and locked the door, 
just as the train pulled out, and no one saw them. Their 
attention was attracted elsewhere, and they landed next 
morning at William Cody's (alias Buffalo Bill's) ranch, 
who happened to be at home in North Platte. Bill was 
kind hearted and was always willing to help the weak 
and needy, so they got the best of care, and Mr. Cody 
had several relays of teams stationed overland towards 
Dodge City. Mr. Cody, I think, accompanied them for 
the first few days. It was a long way across country 
for a badly wounded man, but they made it all right, 
without accident. 

Another man worthy of note, on account of many 
good qualities, was Edward J. Masterson, a brother of 
Bat Masterson. He came to Dodge City with his dis- 
tinguished brother, and, in 1877, was appointed marshal 
of Dodge City. He was in every way well qualified to 

— 304 — 



■fill this position. He was a natural gentleman, a man of 
good judgment, cool, and considerate. He had another 
very important qualification, that of bravery. In those 
days, a man with any streaks of yellow in him could have 
accomplished nothing as such officer in Dodge. 

The mayor and city council, knowing Ed Masterson 
to possess all of the qualifications demanded by the times, 
conditions, and the position, gave him the appointment, 
to the entire satisfaction of all the business men and 
citizens of the town. He served in such capacity about 
a year and, during the time, acquitted himself in such 
a way that his untimely death, in the performance of his 
duty, was deeply and sincerely deplored by the entire 
community. 

I here relate an attempt to perform duty at that 
time, and the result, as published in the ''Dodge City 
Times," November 10th, 1877. 

''Last Monday afternoon, one of those little episodes 
which serve to vary the monotony of frontier existence 
occurred at the Lone Star dance hall, during which four 
men came out some the worse for wear, but none, with 
one exception, being seriously hurt. 

"Bob Shaw, the man who started the amusement, 
accused Texas Dick, alias Moore, of having robbed him 
of forty dollars, and, when the two met in the Lone Star, 
the ball opened. Somebody, foreseeing possible trouble 
and probable gore, started out in search of City Marshal, 
Ed. Masterson, and, finding him, hurried him to the 
scene of the impending conflict. 

"When Masterson opened the door, he descried 
Shaw near the bar, with a huge pistol in his hand and a 
hogshead of blood in his eye, ready to relieve Texas 
i Dick of his existence in this world and send him to those 
shades where troubles come not and six-shooters are 
unknown. Not wishing to hurt Shaw, but anxious to 
quiet matters and quell the disturbance, Masterson order- 

— 305 — 



ill 



ed him to give up his gun. Shaw refused to deliver and 
told Masterson to keep away from him, and, after saying . 
this, he proceeded to try to kill Texas Dick. Officer 
Masterson then gently tapped belligerent Shaw upon the 
head with his shooting iron, merely to convince him of 
the vanities of this frail world. The aforesaid reminder 
upon the head, however, failed to have the desired effect, 
and, instead of dropping, as any man of fine sensibilities 
would have done, Shaw turned his battery upon the 
officer and let him have it in the right breast. The ball, 
striking a rib and passing around, came out under the 
right shoulder blade, paralyzing his right arm so that it 
was useless, so far as handling a gun was concerned. 
Masterson fell, but grasping the pistol in his left hand 
he returned the fire, giving it to Shaw in the left arm 
and left leg, rendering him hors de combat. 

''During the melee, Texas Dick was shot in the right 
groin, making a painful and dangerous, though not neces- 
sarily a fatal wound, while Frank Buskirk, who, impelled 
by a curiosity he could not control, was looking in at 
the door upon the matinee, received a reminiscence in the 
left arm, which had the effect of starting him out to 
hunt a surgeon. Nobody was killed, but, for a time, it 
looked as though the undertaker and the coroner would 
have something to do." 

The writer remembers this shooting scrape well. 
Someone ran by my store at full speed, crying out, ''Our 
marshal is being murdered in the dance hall!" I, with 
several others, quickly ran to the dance hall and burst 
in the door. The house was so dense with smoke from 
the pistols a person could hardly see, but Ed Masterson 
had corralled a lot in one corner of the hall, with his six- 
shooter in his left hand, holding them there until assist- 
ance could reach him. I relate this to show the daring 
and cool bravery of our marshal, in times of greatest 
danger, and when he was so badly wounded. 

— 306 — 



p April 9th, 1878, Ed Masterson was mortally wounded, 
jin an attempt to make an arrest of two desperate men, 
.jJack Wagner and Alf Walker, who had committed some 
53rime and were terrorizing the town. A very short time 
jafter being shot he died. A few minutes after Ed was 
,,shot, Bat heard of the trouble and hurried to the assist- 
ance of his brother. It took but a glance from Bat to 
gietermine that his brother was murdered. He was greatly 
^affected by the horrible crime, and, when Ed told him he 
|iad his death wound, he gathered the particulars, and, 
^bidding his brother an affectionate farewell, hastily de- 
|Parted to avenge his death ; and I have no doubt he made 
the murderers pay the penalty. 

I Ed Masterson 's death shocked the entire town, and 
ithe feeling was intense against his murderers. To show 
the esteem in which Masterson was held, the city council 
And civic organizations passed resolutions of respect, and 
all the business houses closed during the time of his 
[funeral. It was the largest funeral held in Dodge City, 
jUp to that time. 

; I present a photograph of Andy Johnson, one of the 
fheroes of the adobe wall fight. He has gone through all 
]the vicissitudes of life. A blacksmith by trade, but he 
has never been afraid to tackle anything that has come in 
his way. Always a busy man, he has made and lost two 
or three fortunes. It has been up and down, and down 
and up with him, but he has never been discouraged. 
Coming over from Sweden, at an early day, he found his 
way out to the great plains, when he was not much more 
than a boy. He was introduced, at once, to all the hard- 
ships and privations of a buffalo hunter, and came near 
freezing to death, when he was caught in several of our 
terrible snow-storms. He same to Dodge City soon after 
the town was started, and has rendered good service to 
it by his thrift and industry. He built the big store- 
house, for Rath & Wright, at the adobe walls, and col- 

— 307 — 



lected many trophies from the bodies of dead Indians, 
immediately after the fight; and I expect he had the 
largest collection of war bonnets, shields, bows and 
arrows, spears, white people's scalps, and other Indian 
curiosities, of anyone in the West. They were considered 
of great value, but were nearly all destroyed by the big 
fire in Dodge, in 1885. He worked some time in our 
hide yard, and says we often had forty thousand or fifty 
thousand buffalo hides, at a time, in the yard. 

The Honorable M. W. Sutton, who deserves and 
ought to have more space in our book than we can possi- 
bly give him, came to Dodge in 1876, and at once, from 
the very beginning, struck a gait that gave him front 
rank as an attorney. Indeed, he was, for many years, 
the leading attorney of southwest Kansas, and always 
has held his own among the very best lawyers of our 
state. He was a friend of the "gang," but always stood 
up for right and justice. He and the writer ran on the 
same ticket, and were always elected by overwhelming 
majorities. He was behind me, as adviser, in all my 
deals and undertaking. He held many responsible posi- 
tions of honor and trust, and discharged their duties ably 
and satisfactorily. When Bat Masterson was sheriff, 
Mike (Sutton) was prosecuting attorney, and they made 
a great team. It was not, "Scare 'em and catch 'em," 
as the old story goes, but it was, "Catch 'em and convict 
'em," which was nearly always sure to be the case. It 
was his ability, and not chance, that did it, as some of 
his enemies would try to make you believe. Unusual suc- 
cess, in any line, seems always attended by enemies, but, 
in this instance, both Sutton and Masterson were well 
fitted to follow Cy Leland's example toward those who 
cherished resentment against them. Leland said that if 1 
he were making answer to the resentful ones, he would' 
repeat this printed poem which, for years, he carried in^ 
lais pocket : j 

-^308— 1 



f ''You have no enemies, you say? 

' Alas ! my friends, the boast is poor. 

He who has mingled in the fray 
' Of duty that the brave endure. 

Must have made foes. If you have none, 

Small is the work that you have done 

You've hit no traitor on the hip; 

You've dashed no cup from perjured lip; 

You've never turned the wrong to right; 
I YouVe been a coward in the fight." 

During our campaigns, in very early days, Mr. Sutton 
and I had some funny things to occur. I regret I cannot 
give them for want of space. Some of them would equal, 
in fun, the electioneering adventures of David Crockett 
and Daniel Boone. Mike was the making of our beloved, 
talented, and greatly distinguished congressman, now 
deceased. Mr. Sutton spared no labor or means in bring- 
ing him out and boosting him, all the time and in every 
way possible; and, on every occasion, he would manage 
to call the public's attention to the name of Ed Madison. 
Mike surely was, for many years, the big political boss of 
the great Southwest, and held the situation in his vest 
pocket; and he certainly made one United States senator, 
and came within two votes of making another, besides 
figuring conspicuously in making and defeating others. 
For many years, he was undoubtedly a power in politics. 
He is retired now, living on the fruits of his past toil, 
but still retains much of his former vigor, and retains 
the respect and esteem of his community. 

Of the number of old citizens of the town, whose resi- 
dence began with the opening of the Santa Fe railway 
and which still continues to be Dodge City, we find only 
seven survivors. These are A. J. Anthony, Dr. T. L. 
McCarty, Honorable G. M. Hoover, H. S. Sitler, 0. A. 
Bond, Andrew Johnson, and myself, R. M. Wright. Of 
these, Andrew Johnson has been mentioned. A. J. 
Anthony, who is now (1913) eighty-three years of age, is 

— 309 — 



a most wonderfully preserved man, as active and bright 
as a man of forty. He goes right along with a laugh and 
a song, and sometimes a dance. Nothing seems to worry 
him. The reason he is so well preserved is that he never 
dissipated; always led an even, pure life, and strictly 
temperate in his habits. He has filled several offices of 
honor and trust, such as county commissioner, and other 
county and township offices. 

Dr. T. L. McCarty is the oldest and one of the best 
known physicians and surgeons in the West. He has 
lived to see Dodge City grow from a few houses to its 
present size. He and his son, Claude, have a fine hospital 
here, and they stand today in the front ranks of the .best 
physicians in the state, and enjoy a large practice. His 
son and partner, Dr. Claude McCarty, was the first child 
(with the exception noted in a former chapter) born in 
Dodge City. 

Honorable G. M. Hoover is one of our wealthiest men. 
He made all his money here. He has held many offices 
of honor and trust. He represented Ford county in the 
legislature two terms. He was mayor of Dodge City } 
several times, and county commissioner several times. He 
owns a big bank of which he is president. 

Mr. H. L. Sitler is a retired farmer and stock man, 
and was, for a long time, one of our leading men in the 
stock business. 

0. A. Bond is pointed out, by the younger generation, 
as the great hunter and nimrod— the man who killed 
so many buffalo in one day, and stood in the front ranks 
of the mighty hunters in early days. He is now the 
owner of one of our largest drug stores, and is taking 
life easy in his old days. 

Since beginning this book, I learn that my old friend, 
William Tilghman, Chief of Police of Oklahoma City, and 
mentioned several times in previous pages, is a candidate 
for the marshalship of Oklahoma. The president couM 

— 310 — 



not appoint a better man, nor one more fitted for the place 
by all the rules of war. William Tilghman has spent 
almost a lifetime in this kind of work. He was marshal 
under me, when I was mayor of Dodge City, and Ben 
Daniels was his assistant. No braver men ever handled 
a gun or arrested an outlaw, and Dodge never passed 
through a tougher time than the year of the big fire, the 
year I w^as mayor It did seem like every bad and des- 
perate character in the whole West gathered here; and 
when we would drive out one lot, another set would make 
their appearance But Tilghman was equal to the 
occasion. He had many narrow escapes, and many desper- 
ate men to deal with ; and Ben Daniels was a good second. 
Ex -President Roosevelt told the writer, when I was walk- 
ing with him from the round-house to the depot, that 
Daniels was one of the bravest men he ever saw. He said, 
during the Cuban war, he could send Ben any place and 
he was sure to go, no matter how great the danger; he 
never found him wanting, and he paid him many other 
high compliments, when I told him Ben was an old citizen 
of Dodge, and a peace officer. I regret I cannot give 
Tilghman and Daniels a more extended notice for want 
of space. 

I would not feel satisfied, nor would I think my book 
complete, unless I made mention, in my feeble way, of my 
old friend and fellow politician, Honorable Nicholas B. 
Klaine. Mr. Klaine was not one of our first settlers 
(came here in 1877), but there is no man who has con- 
tributed more in building up and trying to snatch Dodge 
City from its wickedness, and bring about an era of 
Christian feeling and build-up of our churches and other 
religious and charitable institutions than he. He has 
labored hard, both day and night, with his able pen and 
valuable papers, for the welfare of Dodge City. He and 
I, I am proud to say, have always worked side by side 
in politics, as well as in many other things, for the com- 
mon good. He was editor of the "Dodge City Times*' 

— 311 — 



for many years, and has filled several offices of honor and 
trust. He was postmaster of Dodge City for one term, 
and gave general satisfaction. He was probate judge of 
our county for several years. He has also helped me not 
a little with my book. 

Now I can't help speaking a great big word for my 
old friend. Chalk Beeson, God rest his soul! and may 
God take a liking to him, is my fervent prayer. Had I 
space, I could write many pages of his good, generous 
deeds. He never neglected the sick and needy, and, in 
times of affliction. Chalk would always be on hand to 
give comfort, and aid, if necessary, to the stricken ones. 
He was an indefatigable worker at whatever he under- 
took, and he never went after anything that he did not 
succeed in getting it. It was greatly through his efforts 
that our fine Masonic Hall was builded, and it stands, 
today, as a monument to his labor. He was one of the 
widest and best known men in the state, and among the 
Masons he reached a high mark. He twice represented 
our county in the legislature, and was sheriff of our 
county a number of times. He was one of the celebrated 
scouts that accompanied the Grand Duke Alexis, of 
Russia, on his great buffalo hunt; he was also the origi- 
nator, leader, and proprietor of our famous cowboy band, 
of which I shall presently say more; in fact, he was the 
'^ whole thing." 

Mr. Beeson came to this country from Colorado, after 
spending several years there. At one time, he drove stage 
between Colorado Springs and Denver. He was com- 
pelled to reside in Dodge, for a short time, owing to loan- 
ing money on property here, to a friend, and not being 
able to get it back as soon as he expected; but he liked 
Dodge, took over the property instead of the money, and 
located here permanently. He had acquired a very good 
musical training in Colorado, playing always with the 
best musicians wherever he Avent; and at one time he 
played a steady engagement in Pueblo. When Dodge 

— 312 — 



became the big cattle market of the central west, he 
invested money in a herd, and the first range he herded 
over was on the Saw Log. He afterwards took W. H. 
Harris in partnership with him, and they moved this herd 
to Sand Creek, about fifty-five miles south of Dodge City. 
During the severe winter of 1885-1886, they lost almost 
everything, and it somewhat discouraged him in the cattle 
business. He traded property on the southwest corner of 
Second avenue and Spruce street for eighty acres of land 
a mile and a half southwest of Dodge, where he resided 
until his death, due to a bucking horse he was riding. 

This trade was unusual in the fact that Mr. Beeson 
and Mr. D. T. Owens, who owned the town property, 
traded evenly and complete, just as the properties stood, 
each family taking only their personal effects with them. 
And the peculiar fact still presents itself to us, that, after 
twenty-five years, the two properties still remain of equal 
value, as real estate. 

Mr. Beeson was greatly admired by the Santa Fe 
railway people. At the time of his death he had acquired 
considerable land and town property. He was one of the 
heavy tax payers, and gave the right of way, through 
his valuable farm lands, for the building of the new rail- 
road. 

Another old friend and early comer to Dodge City 
I must mention is Mr. H. B. Bell. Mr. Bell, who was 
born in Maryland, lost his parents when very young, and, 
when a mere boy, came west to try his luck. From Law- 
rence, Kansas, his first stop, he went to Abilene, Ells- 
worth, and finally Great Bend, where he landed in July, 
1872. There he hunted buffalo awhile, then got a position 
with a Santa Fe agent whose office was a box-car, and 
worked there till appointed assistant marshal under 
James Gainsford. 

In September, 1874, Mr. Bell came to Dodge City, 
served several terms as city alderman, was appointed 
United States deputy marshal after the assassination 

— 313 — 



of United States Deputy Marshal McCarty, and served in 
that capacity for twelve years. He also served as deputy 
sheriff under Charles Bassett and several other sheriffs, 
was elected to the office of county commissioner, served 
one year, and then ran and was elected sheriff, in which 
office he served for twelve years. Mr. Bell has been in 
office for about thirty years. He made many trips alone 
into No Man's Land, and brought out his man. When 
our Ford Bank was robbed, Mr. Bell was one of the im- 
portant factors in bringing four of the robbers to trial, 
three of whom are now (1913) serving sentence. In all 
his official capacity, while very dangerous work in th» 
old days, Mr. Bell has never shot a man, and never hit 
a man with a gun to affect an arrest, though I think he 
has arrested more people, for the warrants handled, than 
any sheriff in our western country. Mr. Bell is our pres- 
ent mayor, and is putting in his entire time, to give satis- 
faction to our people. Just to show that, in his energy 
and ability, time has not changed him, I clip, in part, the 
following, from the ''Globe" of 1877: 

''Mr. Ham Bell is the pioneer livery man of western 
Kansas. In addition to his large establishment in this 
city, he is also the proprietor of a branch establishment 
at Burton. He cuts his own hay, grows his own corn, 
puts up ice, hunts buffaloes and wolves, and keeps up 
several other businesses in town. But he has never any- 
thing to do, and will give you a trade for a horse, jack- 
knife, meeting house, or cast-iron jail, just to please you. 
Ham is a genuine, live western man, and keeps things 



movinof. " 



Our fellow-townsman, and friend I am proud to call 
him. Governor W. J. Fitzgerald, has contributed largely 
to the building up of our town. He came here a poor boy, 
without money, and, what was worse, in very poor health. 
Indeed, it is a wonder he ever pulled through his long 
and severe sickness. But he is a rich man, today, and 
has earned it all by his indefatigable industry and enter- 

— 314 — 



prise. He is the owner of one of the finest farms and 
stock ranches in Kansas, with large and commodious 
barns and stables, and fine farm house. He has repre- 
sented us twice in the legislature, and was lieutenant- 
governor of Kansas two terms. He is a gifted orator, and 
ranks high among the foremost and brightest young men 
in our state. He is a fine business man and a shrewd 
politician, and, mark my prediction, his voice will be 
heard in the halls of congress, one of these days. 

Like Mr. Fitzgerald, there are others of our citizens 
who, though not the first settlers, have contributed large- 
ly to Dodge City's prosperity, advancement, and wealth, 
and Dr. C. A. Milton was at the head of this class. He 
is next to the oldest physician in Dodge today, enjoyed 
a large practice up to the time of his retirement, and now 
is much sought professionally, though acting only as a 
consulting physician. He can afford to avoid active 
practice, as he has made a small fortune from his pro- 
fession as well as from his success as a wheat and alfalfa 
grower. 

A. Gluck was for a long time the leading jeweler of 
western Kansas, and was many times mayor of Dodge 
City. His persistent and deep rooted faith in Dodge has 
made him a fortune. He has the distinction of being the 
only mayor ever impeached under the prohibition act, 
and his conduct was vindicated immediately afterwards 
by his being unanimously reelected by the people. He 
was not one of the first settlers, but has contributed 
largely to the building up of our city. 

Of the many notable men that Dodge City has turned 
out, it is a pleasure to mention the names of Dr. Simpson 
and Dr. Crumbine. In early days, the ''Romance of the 
West" was "Pipes 0' Pan" to the restless youth, and 
among others who came west, in response to the ''Pipes" 
was Dr. O. H. Simpson, whose mission was dentistry, and 
religion to save teeth. In his frontier isolation from the 
profession, he developed an individuality or style of dent- 

-.315 — 



istry that the dental profession has recognized by adopt- 
ing much of it in their teachings and practice. Dr. 
Simpson was thrice appointed a member of the Kansas 
State Board of Dental Examiners, serving as president of 
that body for a period of twelve years ; and, in his early 
efforts to enforce the new dental law, he came so near 
doing it that the ''outlaw" dentists dubbed him the 
''Cowboy Dentist." The doctor always appreciated the 
fact that the greatest asset of life is youth; and it was 
through the open minds of the young men that made it 
possible for him to teach his methods of practice, while 
their added genius have developed modern dentistry. 
Doctor Simpson tells many funny stories of himself, when 
he was a tenderfoot and first came to Dodge, and they are 
mostly at his own expense. 

Simpson and Ballou are the sole owners of the Wil- 
low Meadows Dairy, the largest and finest in western 
Kansas. It contains three hundred and twenty-five acres 
of rich meadow, and is surrounded on all sides by large 
alfalfa fields. They have gone to great pains and ex- 
pense to make it perfect. It enjoys all the modern im- 
provements, such as gasoline engines, pumping clear, cool 
water from deep wells, ice plant, electric light plant, cool- 
ing rooms; and with screens and other modern improve- 
ments, it is impervious to dirt and flies. The milk is 
cooled in a systematic manner. They have a large herd 
of thoroughbred Holstein cows, and milk over half a 
hundred. 

Dr. S. Jay Crumbine, who came to Dodge City in the 
early eighties and practiced medicine for a number of 
years with marked success, is especially entitled to fav- 
orable mention as one of the Dodge City men who have 
done things. As secretary of our State Board of Health, 
he conceived the idea of the individual drinking cup, 
clean towels, inspection of hotels and restaurants, swat 
the fly, and many other things of a sanitary nature, that 
have received a world-wide recognition and adoption. 

— 316 — 



He not only thought these things out, but he carried 
them into effect by his indefatigable zeal and energy, and 
his writings along these lines, tuberculosis, and many 
other vital questions pertaining to health, should be read 
by everyone. Recognizing his ability, the Kansas State 
University elected him dean of their medical school, and 
he is filling this position now (1913), as well as acting 
as secretary of our State Board of Health, with, not only 
great credit to himself, but a widespread benefit to the 
public at large. 

In concluding this list of Dodge citizens, I present 
a few words on the Honorable Ed. Madison, our gifted, 
greatly beloved, and much lamented townsman and con- 
gressman. His political career was short, but he cut a 
big figure and made a great reputation as a statesman 
and debater, for one so young and opportunities so 
limited. He gave promise of big things in the future, 
had he lived. We were all proud of him ; and his funeral 
was the largest ever seen in Dodge City, up to that time. 



— 317 — 



t! 



CHAPTER XVII 

The Great Decline and Subsequent Revival 

The early Dodge City boomers never cut the cloth 
scant when fitting the garment for general utility. They 
had no narrow vision of the prospect, and the perspective 
appeared the same width at both ends. As early as 1885 1 
Dodge City was mentioned in the '^Larned Optic" as 
destined to be a railroad center, which prophecy modern 
times has seen well fulfilled ; and it was continually 
spoken of as a future metropolis, which surmise is still 
a healthy inspiration, gradually ripening to fulfillment. 
Electric lights illuminated the vision of the mind as 
well as the eyes, of the early boomer; and when the old 
timer set about promoting an enterprise, he had the con- 
sciousness of success. If the thing did not succeed at the 
time, it was the incentive for the revival of the scheme 
at a later date. 

So, with her citizens imbued with such a spirit, and 
with the impetus given by the prodigious business activi- 
ties of the previous ten years, it is not strange that the 
beginning of the year, 1886, saw Dodge City becoming 
modernized. Street grades had been established, with a 
view to future curbing and paving; a Board of Trade 
was organized in April, 1886, and was conducted with all 
the grave formality of later times and older communi- 
ties, and with the same earnestness in promoting enter- 
prises; about the same time, the first electric light com- 
pany was organized, and also a telephone company, 
though the latter did not fully succeed in working out 
all its plans till some years later. Free mail delivery was 
promised from Washington, as soon as the local post- 
office receipts reached ten thousand dollars yearly, but 
this promise did not materialize till the spring of 1910, 
twenty-four years after it was given. 

— 318 — 



In this same year (1886), a waterworks system was 
also installed, and was first tested in the latter part of 
January, 1887. The ''Globe" says: ''There were six 
hose attached to six hydrants, in different parts of the 
city, all throwing water at the same time. The hose was 
three inches in diameter, and the nozzle one inch. At 
the hydrants in the south part of the city, it is estimated 
that streams, ranging from eighty to one hundred feet 
high, were thrown; while on the hills north, the power 
was not so great, the streams reaching a height of only 
fifty or sixty feet. The water was kept on for twenty 
minutes, and the people were well satisfied with the test. 
With this excellent system of waterworks, and with our 
three hose companies and hook and ladder company, 
which are in constant training, Dodge City can defy the 
fire fiend, in the future.'* 

Dodge had cause to feel pride and security in her 
new fire fighting equipment, as she had experienced two 
disastrous fires before the establishment of the water- 
works system. The first of these fires occurred in Jan- 
uary, 1885, and it almost totally destroyed the whole 
block on Front street, between Second and Third 
avenues. The buildings were mostly frame, but a small 
brick building, on the west of the postoffice, was the 
means of checking the flames. The loss was estimated 
at sixty thousand dollars, on which the insurance was 
twenty-five thousand. The "Globe" tells of the heroic 
work of the volunteer firemen in preventing a general 
fire. 

Dodge City's second great fire, occuring December 
1st, 1885, was again on Front street, in the block between 
First and Second avenues, which was completely destroy- 
ed. With the exception of the R. M. Wright building, 
which was of brick, all the buildings were of frame. The 
loss was computed at about seventy-five thousand dollars. 
The origin of the fire is supposed to have been a coal oil 
lamp, exploding, or breaking from a fall, where it was 

— 319 — 



suspended, upstairs over Sheridan's saloon. The fire 
oceuring at seven in the evening, gave opportunity to 
save much inside property; but, owing to inadequate 
means of putting out fires, the entire block was soon con- 
sumed. As the "Globe" describes it: "Ladders were 
soon run up to the roof of the Globe building; and just 
as many men as could get around to work, started in, 
passing buckets of water, wetting blankets and spreading 
them on the roof and keeping them wet, while others kept 
the roof well covered with salt. At each of the upstairs 
windows were stationed one or two men, who kept the 
scorching, blistering building from taking fire. It was a 
hard and well fought battle with the fiery element." The 
damage by moving stocks from the buildings on Chest-, 
nut street, besides houses that were scorched and damaged 
by water, amounted to considerable. There was no wind, 
and the evening was quiet and damp. 

Such were the conditions and events leading to the 
establishment of facilities for fire protection. And one 
of Dodge City's institutions, of which she was particu- 
larly proud, was her little fire company. It was the 
pride of the village, and the pet of western Kansas and 
Colorado. Wherever our fire boys went, Wichita, New- 
ton, Denver, Leadville, Pueblo, Colorado Springs, and 
Trinidad, they were feasted, wined and dined, toasted and 
given the place of honor ; and never did they fail to bring 
home one of the first prizes for fast runs and all around 
efficiency, while their conduct away from home was an 
honor to our town, and always mentioned as such by the 
town of which they were the guests. Their trim, neat, 
and gentlemanly appearance was also universally remark- 
ed, and favorably commented upon. 

It is a notorious fact and worthy of note that the 
climate around Dodge City is conducive to speed. Parties 
from Dodge, Mr. Sam Stubbs, William Tilghman, and 
others, have gone east and bought up and brought back 
to Dodge, old, broken down race horses. Under good 

— 320 — 



^treatment and care, these horses would not only regain 
their former speed, but would way yonder surpass it, and 
would be taken back east and beat their former record 
and win many races. It was the same way with young 
athletes. They would come to Dodge, join our fire com- 
pany, and many of them turn out even-time men ; and 
that is why our little fire company was always to the 
front. Dodge was also the home of some of the speediest 
wild animals on earth; for instance, the antelope, the 
little red, swift or prairie fox, the wild horse, deer, elk, 
and, last but not least, the jack rabbit. Perhaps speed 
was in the air — or climate. 

The close of Dodge City's first great epoch of pros- 
perity was further marked by many projects for railroad 
building, most of which, however, fell through to a greater 
or less extent. When the Bucklin branch was built, 
the intended extension of the road was through Arkan- 
sas, Kansas, and Colorado; but Ford county voted one 
hundred thousand dollars in bonds, to aid in this enter- 
prise, and the Bucklin branch was the limit. On Septem- 
ber 30th, 1887, the "Globe" said arrangements had been 
perfected for the grading, tieing, and laying of iron on 
the Arkansas, Kansas & Colorado railroad, which was to 
be built, with a connection with the Rock Island at Buck- 
lin, to Dodge City, and "which must be completed by 
December 31st, to earn the hundred thousand dollars in 
county bonds, voted to said road to aid in its construc- 
tion. The president, Mr. C. D. Perry, has just returned 
from the East, where he arranged for all necessary ma- 
terial, and graders have gone to work." The Wichita & 
Western was looked for — it was always an ignis fatuus 
in railroad projects — but it never appeared. About this 
time the Montezuma railroad was considered, and was 
built by A. T. Soule. The road was abandoned, and the 
rails and ties taken up. Some traces of the old road 
bed are yet plain. 

— 321 — 



One of the institutions of this period, of which Dodge 
City was justly proud, and which carried her peculiar' 
individuality and atmosphere from one end of the coun- 
try to the other, Avas the famous "Cowboy Band." This 
band was organized with a membership of eighteen men, 
including drum major and color bearer. The band woi-e ; 
the uniform of the cowboy. A large sombrero took the 
place of the ordinary hat, while a blue flannel shirt was i 
substituted for the white bosomed shirt, and a silk scarf > 
took the place of a neck tie. Leather leggings, sup- 
ported by a Cartridge belt and scabbard, a navy six- 
shooter, and spurs on boots completed the dress of this 
famous band of musicians. 

The ''St. Louis Globe-Democrat" once printed a, 
picture of the band, showing Professor Eastman (the 
director) using a six-shooter to beat the time. A reporter 
on the paper asked the professor what he swung that gun 
for, and was told it was his baton. ''Is it loaded?" asked 
the reporter. "Yes." What for?" "To kill the first 
man who strikes a false note," was the professor's reply. 

The Cowboy Band went over a larger scope of coun- 
try and was the best advertised band of any band, east 
or west, that was ever organized. It attracted more 
attention, wherever it went, not because it discoursed 
more beautiful music than any other band — although the 
members were highly complimented for their talent as 
musicians — but because of its unique appearance. After 
its fame became known, it was invited to a great many 
celebrated gatherings; for instance, to Washington City, 
when President Harrison was inaugurated, and my ! what 
a swath the bunch did cut. People just went wild over 
them, I expect because many of them had never seen a 
cowboy before ; and their uniforms were a wonder to 
them. With their chapps and spurs and wooly leather 
leggings, belts and six-shooters, quirts, etc., it was indeed 
a sight to the people, and crowds followed in their wake, 
when they inarched down Pennsylvania avenue. They 



^iked to never got home. They were taken all around 
■he country, and they were actually quarreled over, as 
";o what city or convention they would go to next. They 
Were loaded down with all sorts and kinds of trophies 
'ind presents, and even money was forced upon them. 
[ 'Colonel Hunter, president of the St. Louis stock 
Yuen's convention, and Mr. Rainwater, mayor of St. Louis, 
ptertained the Cowboy Band handsomely; they dined 
:hem and wined them and gave them the freedom of the 
3ity, and none of them was allowed to spend a cent. At 
a. banquet, given them by Mr. Rainwater at his private 
residence, one of the band, a tall, raw-boned, awkward, 
i ungainly man, George Horter by name, when they were 
I seated at the banquet board, took up his finger bowl 
land drank the water. The other boys noticed this and 
"were embarrassed at it. Mr. Rainwater came nobly to 
the rescue by taking up his finger bowl, also, and drink- 
ing from it to the health of the Cowboy Band. 

While the band was in Topeka, they were invited to 
a banquet, given by the great lawyer and prince of good 
fellows. Captain George R. Peck, general solicitor of the 
Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe railroad. During the ban- 
quet, this same George Horter said: '' ' Captain Peck ! ' 
Why, nearly twenty years ago my captain was named 
Peck." At that. Captain Peck said: ''What regiment 
and company?" George told him, when they both jump- 
ed up and hugged each other. Such a scene you never 
witnessed. They both almost wept in each other's arms. 
After twenty years, to be brought together in this way ! 
It was touching, to say the least. 

''The Pueblo Chieftain," in an account of the cattle 
men's convention, held in Dodge City, April 13th, 1882, 
says: 

"The cattle men's convention adjourned yesterday, 
and the proceedings wound up last night with the grand- 
est ball and banquet ever held in western Kansas. It is 
estimated that the stock men here represented over fifty 

-^323 — 



million dollars. Just think of that amount of money, in 
one hall, in a western town. The hall was splendidly 
decorated by the ladies of Dodge. Evergreen anchors, 
wreaths, crosses, and other emblems, ^vith a number of 
fine pictures decorated the walls. Among the latter were 
several splendid oil paintings, the work of Mrs. Chalk 
Beeson. The ball was a masquerade affair. The music 
was furnished by the Cowboy Band, and the prompting 
was done by Mr. Beeson, the best in the business. The 
banquet was in Cox's very best style, and was a magnifi- 
cent affair." 

The Kansas City papers reported during the exposi- 
tion of 1886 : ''The Cowboy Band elicited words of praise 
from fifteen thousand visitors yesterday. This band is 
composed of real cowboys, not soft-handed dudes in dis- 
guise, as some had supposed before seeing them." 

The Cowboy Band was organized in 1881, after which 
time it gradually grew into prominence until it gained 
for itself a world-wide reputation. The first time the 
boys appeared in public as the Cowboy Band was in 1881, 
when they furnished music for the Topeka fair. In 1884 
they attended the Cattle Men's National Convention at 
St. Louis, where they were presented with several mag- 
nificent banners as a token of the high appreciation by 
the people of St. Louis for the excellent music the boys 
furnished them. On the trip to St. Louis they also visited 
Chicago, St. Paul, Milwaukee, and several other important 
cities, and on all occasions were received by the people? 
in a manner which showed their love for good music. 

In 1885 they made their second visit to St. Louis, and 
in 1886 visited Pueblo and Denver, where thc}^ were 
received even in a more royal manner than in the eastern 
cities. And the boys were often heard to boast of the' 
kind treatment they received at the hands of our good 
neighbors of the State of Colorado. 

The abandonment of Fort Dodge, the settlement of 
the military reservation, and the establishment of the 

— 324 — 



Soldiers' Home, were important steps in the seeming 
course of advancement, in this period of Dodge City's 
history. The abandonment of Fort Dodge as a military 
post, in June, 1882, created surprise among the Dodge 
City people and settlers generally. With the abandon- 
ment of the fort, the people would have no protection 
against Indian raids. But the troops stationed at Fort 
Dodge were sent, one company to Fort Reno, one com- 
pany to Fort Supply, and the third company to Fort 
Elliott, Texas, where they could be in proximity to the 
Indian reservations. 

Fort Dodge, after its abandonment by the military, 
was partially demolished, many buildings being removed. 
However, the rebuilding and repairing took place, and 
the establishment of the Soldiers' Home sustained the 
character of the famous post. The establishment of this 
Home was indicated as early as the first part of 1883, a 
resolution having been introduced in the Kansas legisla- 
ture, memorializing congress to cede the Fort Dodge mili- 
tary reservation for that purpose. But it was not until 
1887 that the Home was established. 

Late in May, 1886, a sudden rush for settlement, on 
the Fort Dodge reservation was made, early one Monday 
morning, and a hundred or more claims staked off, 
between Sunday night at twelve o'clock and Monday 
morning before sunrise. No one appeared to know how 
the reservation happened to be thrown upon the market 
all of a sudden, and no one stopped to inquire, but went 
right along with settling and improving some portion of 
the reservation, regardless of what the outcome might 
be. The people were perfectly wild with the excitement 
occasioned by this mysterious move. Every available 
team in the city was employed to haul lumber ; carpenters 
were in demand, who, after being hired to do a little mid- 
night job in the way of erecting a claim house, refused to 
work for their employers, but, on the other hand, hired 
teams and went to the reservation with lumber, squatted 

— 325 — 



upon a hundred and sixty acres of land, and erected a 
house for themselves. 

Now all this was wholly unwarranted on the squat- 
ters' part. The reservation had not been thrown open to 
settlement, and the only foothold the premature settlers 
gained was that of "squatters' right" which gave him 
the first right to purchase, in case the land was put up 
for sale. The reservation lands were subsequently opened 
to settlement, on terms prescribed by the government, by 
purchase and priority in settlement. The original "squat- 
ters," except in a few instances, relinquished their rights, 
and others proved up the claims. 

Not the least of the signs of modernism, in this par- 
ticular epoch of Dodge City, was the somewhat uncertain, 
but none the less significant moves toward certain social 
reforms. As is usual with the beginnings of such at- 
tempts, they took the form of the suppressing of profanity 
in public, and the establishment of a stricter form of 
Sunday observance. An example of one of the first pro- 
tests against profanity is that of Postmaster Reamer, 
who, through the "Globe" of December 21st, 1886, "pro- 
tests against the profanity, and in the postoffice 
especially, by the ladies (?), if such they can be called; 
more especially those that swear just because they do 
not get a letter.'* 

In early times, Sunday business was the same cs 
week day business. In the frontier days, stores were 
kept open on Sundays to accommodate the cattle and 
plains traders. Evidently the first efforts toward chang- 
ing these conditions were, at first, regarded as almost 
hopeless. The following is significant: "Reverend 0. 
W. Wright has presented a petition from the citizens of 
Dodge City to our merchants, requesting them to close 
their stores on the Sabbath day. He obtained the names 
of a majority of the merchants, but as all will not agree 
to close, the present effort will stop here." 

— 326 — 




A Tree in Horse Thief Canyon 
Where a number of Horse Thieves were Hanged 



Photo by H. M. Steele 



By 1883, however, efforts along this line were more 
successful. A telegram from Dodge City, iu the spring 
of that year, said of the town: "For the first time since 
its existence, it had, last Sunday, the semblance of Sab- 
bath. All business houses and saloons, dance halls and 
gambling halls were closed. There is universal rejoicing 
over this, and it is felt that all measures of reform, as 
contemplated by the city council, will be carried out. 
Many of the gamblers and prostitutes are leaving, most 
of them going to Caldwell. Now if Caldwell could only 
be reformed." 

With all these movements toward development, im- 
provement, and reform, following directly after her great 
prosperity of earlier days, it would seem that Dodge City, 
in 1885, was on the certain road to further advancement, 
steady progress, and uninterrupted growth and prosper- 
ity. But, lo and behold! a new aspect came over the 
spirit of our dreams. Dodge City, once famous for its 
extraordinary prosperity, its lavishness in prodigality 
and possession of wealth, at one fell swoop was reduced 
to extreme poverty, almost want. The change was sharp 
and quick, and almost without warning. The dead line 
was moved to the state line, and Dodge City lost the 
cattle trade; she also lost a tremendous freight business 
by wagon, the buffalo hide and bone industry, and other 
business incident to a frontier country. Railroads, build- 
ing on the south, had absorbed the freight by wagon 
route ; and farmers, settling on the lands, further reduced 
the cattle trade. Under this pressure of civilization, the 
town staggered under the blow. Even the great Santa 
Fe railroad felt the loss, for the company was put into 
the hands of a receiver, and the road's operating expenses 
were cut in two. It was the Santa Fe railway which gave 
Dodge City her start in pioneer life ; and with this confi- 
dence, we felt if everything else failed, the road would 
continue to be a source of revenue to the city. Such 

— 327 — 




depression, following so closely on the heels of her great 
affluence, was truly paralyzing. 

For ten long years, Dodge City was suspended in 
reverses. But during this poverty stricken period, tlie 
process of liquidation was slowly being carried o^t. 
Dodge City had had so much faith in her progress and 
former wealth, that a calamity was unexpected; she lost 
sight of the fact that the unnatural extravagance of that 
former wealth and progress was bound to bring a reac- 
tion, sooner or later. In this depression, property went 
down to five and ten cents on the dollar, in value, or 
you could buy it for a song and sing it yourself. People 
would not pay taxes, and the county became possessed 
of much valuable real estate, while hundreds of specula- 
tors were purchasers of tax titles. Many of the business 
houses closed, and large numbers of residences were with- 
out tenants. Parties were invited to live in them rent 
free, so the insurance could be kept up. And the same 
depression was felt in land and cattle. Good cows sold 
for eight to ten dollars. Land around Dodge sold as low 
as fifty cents per acre. The v/riter's land, a tract of seven 
thousand acres, was sold under the hammer, at less than 
fifty cents per acre ; and some for less than that price. 

A good story is told of an Irishman, passing through 
Dodge City, from Morton county in the southwest part 
of Kansas, on his way to his wife's folks in the East, with 
a little old team of horses, a wagon, and a small cow tied 
behind the wagon. He stopped to water his team, and, 
when someone asked him where he was from and what 
were the conditions out there, he said, ''It is a beautiful 
country for prospects, bless your soul!" ''Why did you 
leave?" he was asked. "Got tired; and my wife wanted 
to see her folks," he replied. "What is the price of land 
out there?" He said: "Come here! you see that little 
cow behind the wagon ; I traded a quarter section of land 
for her, and by gobs! before I made the deed, I found 

— 328 — 



the critter I sold to couldn't read, so I just slipped in the 
other quarter section I had into the deed, and the fellow 
didn't know it." 

Our town and country was likened to a rich family 
which, through extravagance and bad management, was 
reduced to extreme poverty. When they were down to 
the lowest ebb and everything was gone, the head of the 
family caught the eldest son in tears. He said to him, 
' ' My son, what are you crying f or ? " '' My God, father ! ' ' 
he replied, "we have nothing left, whatever." "That 
is so, my son; but cheer up!" the father said: "Don't 
you see? we are at the foot of the ladder and we can go 
no further down; so we are bound to climb." 

Thus it was with Dodge City. She was at the very 
foot of the ladder, and was bound to climb ; and so she 
did, after she started — slow, at first, but after we caught 
our second wind, then by leaps and bounds. We com- 
menced to go up. Our wheat which had been selling for 
40 cents per bushel went up to 60 cents ; our seasons began 
to improve, and our farmers take fresh heart and put 
in a larger acreage of wheat and other crops; and cattle 
began to go way up. Our people sold their wheat and 
invested in cattle ; and sold their increase in cattle and 
bought cheap lands ; and so it went, until our country got 
to be the third largest wheat county, two or three million 
bushels each year. In the harvest of 1912, Ford county 
was second in Kansas, in wheat production. With the 
proceeds from their wheat, farmers bought more land 
and erected business houses in Dodge City. And now 
Dodge can boast of the second finest court house, if not 
the finest in the state, a handsome city hall, a great 
system of water works and electric lights in splendid 
buildings, while our jail is a modern building, and our 
schools and magnificent churches are second to none. 

Out of a great conflict rises a period of prosperity. 
To have gone through this endurance of adversity, 

— 329 — 



equipped the people with courage and a sense of stability 
and prudence, which not only gives them caution, but 
nerve, in making Dodge City the commercial city of west- 
ern Kansas. 

As a close to this work, in addition to what has 
already been said in the same vein, a glimpse of the Dodge 
City of today, lying in the brilliant summer sunshine of 
1913, must be given, or our subject will fall short of 
receiving complete justice. A marked change from the 
feverish commotion of its first great boom, or the terri- 
ble stagnation and desolation of its time of depression, is 
apparent. The happy medium, in its perfection, has been 
struck by the town, at last. It is now a busy, bustling, 
city of 5,000 people, all push and energy, building up and 
reaching out and making every other sort of steady 
progress toward development and improvement, socially, 
financially, and esthetically, without any wild clamor 
about it. Nor is this general progress dependent upon 
any transient traffic or local condition, as was the first 
great era of prorsperity. It is founded on the broader, 
firmer foundation of the development of territory and 
the natural pressure of modern civilization, and must, 
in the very nature of things, continue indefinitely and be 
permanent, with nothing mushroom like in its nature. 

The change is great and keenly apparent to any ob- 
server of recent years; how infinitely greater, then, it 
must be, and how much more apparent to us who have 
watched the progress of Dodge, from its very beginning. 
Rich, green fields of alfalfa, and others of golden wheat, 
now surround the town, in place of the bare prairies of 
old; farm houses, handsome and commodious, with orch- 
ards, gardens, and pastures, occupy the place in the land- 
scape once filled by the humble cabins, and 'dobe or sod 
houses, where the pioneer settler lived so long, in daily 
fear for his life at the mercy of murderous Indians ; the 
primitive fording places of the river, and their succes- 
sor, the rude wooden bridge of early days, have been 

— 330 — 



replaced by a steel and concrete bridge, double tracked 
and electric lighted, across which are continually whirring 
smart vehicles and elegant automobiles, in place of the 
lumbering ox wagon or the spur driven cow pony; the 
weather-worn, blood-stained, old Santa Fe trail is now 
being honored as a distinguished historical highway and 
having its course marked, at intervals, by granite tablets, 
and a fine automobile road alongside ; even the river 
shows change, its channel being narrowed and volume 
diminished by its contribution to irrigation projects above 
Dodge City, but this slight defection is more than 
repaid by the additional verdure and bloom and wealth 
produced by the stolen waters. 

Though enormous crops of wheat and alfalfa are 
raised, without artificial aid, and the bulk of these staples 
are produced without it, irrigation is quite common in the 
vicinity of Dodge City. Many of the irrigation plants are 
private property, consisting, mainly, of deep wells, sunk 
to tap the underflow of the river, and fitted with pumps 
to bring the water to the surface. This underflow is 
practically inexhaustible, and the amount of water a 
farmer wishes to use need be limited only by the number 
of wells he is able to put down. 

In contrast to these small systems, is the largest irri- 
gation project in Dodge City's neighborhood, the great 
Eureka Ditch. This enterprise was first conceived by the 
Gilbert brothers, John and George, two of the most enter- 
prising and go ahead citizens that ever struck this or 
any other country; and they were backed, financially, 
by the great ''Hop Bitters" man, Mr. A. T. Soule, of 
Rochester, New York, who was also the founder of our 
big college. 

By the side of the river is Wright Park, which it 
was the pleasure of the writer to donate to the city, in 
1897, and which, in 1880, was a piece of land newly set 
with young trees. It is now a large grove of magnifi- 

-^331 — 



cent trees, the only indication of their not being natural 
forest being the somewhat regular manner in which they 
stand. Of this park, a local paper is good enough to say : 
**The Wright Park is an institution of the city, highly 
valued for its use in the purposes for which it was in- 
tended. In this city park, public gatherings of all kinds 
are held, free of charge. The public spirit of Mr, Wright 
was manifested on many occasions, but in none, will be 
surpassed that of the park donation, which will be a living 
monument to his memory. The only reservation Mr. 
Wright made, in donating the park, was that it was to 
be called, 'Wright Park,' always. Mr. Wright also 
donated thirteen acres of land where the Harvey eating 
house stands, to the railroad company, on condition that 
a park be established; and also that citizens of Dodge 
City should be charged only fifty cents a meal. But 
the latter agreement was carried out for a short time 
only; and the laying out and cultivation of a park is 
still deferred — now nearly seventeen years having 
elapsed." 

The changes and growth in Wright Park is dupli- 
cated in many other institutions of Dodge City. Every- 
where, brick, stone, and concrete supplant the frame 
structures of former days. And even good brick and 
stone structures of earlier times, have been replaced by 
others of more elegant quality or design. An example is 
the court house which, first built of brick and stone, 
was recently torn down and replaced by the just com- 
pleted elegant structure of white stone and marble, a 
delight to the eye in every line and detail. The contract 
for the building of the city hall, a beautiful architectural 
specimen of brick and white stone, in the midst of spacious, 
well kept grounds, was given in October, 1887, to Messrs. 
Sweeney and Toley, for the sum of $19,800. The work on 
the Methodist college was under way, at this time, up- 
wards of thirty-seven thousand dollars being expended ; 
but, in the time of depression, the building was discon- 

-^332 — 



tinned, and the property finally abandoned as a college. 
Just recently, however, it has been bought entire by the 
Roman Catholics, and is now being overhauled and re- 
fitted, preparatory to the opening of a large school there 
at once. 

The ward school buildings of Dodge, of which there 
are three, are large and substantial structures of brick 
and stone. The handsomest, the present high school build- 
ing, occupies the site of old ''Boot Hill," a mute but ever 
present and immutable witness of how thoroughly cultur^^ 
and education has replaced violence and lawlessness in 
that localit3\ Roomy as are her school facilities, however, 
they cannot accommodate the continually growing num- 
ber of Dodge City's school population, and plans are now 
under way for the building of a new high school building, 
larger, handsomer, and more strictly modern than any 
of the others, admirable though they certainly are. 

The good old Santa Fe railroad has also redeemed 
itself in the public mind, and resumed its part in the up- 
building and advancement of Dodge City. Its great 
round-house and machine shops of a division are located 
here, a handsome station has taken the place of the box- 
car and small station house of early days, an elegant 
''Harvey House" hotel is maintained, and a ten thousand 
dollar freight depot of brick and stone has just been com- 
pleted by the road. This last statement, alone, is proof 
that the freight traffic over the Santa Fe, at Dodge City, 
is still highly important, while the passenger service is 
equally important, and perfect in appointment and con- 
venience. 

Among the churches, the Christian denomination was 
the first to erect a large and handsome church building 
of brick and stone, which is an ornament to the city. The 
Methodists have just completed an elegant twentj^-five 
thousand dollar edifice of brick, stone, and concrete ; 
while the Presbyterians contemplate the erection of an 
equally handsome building, in the near future. The 

— 333 — 



Episcopal church, though small, is a little gem — ^the most 
artistic building in Dodge 'City. With its brown stone 
walls, colored glass windows, and square bell tower, it is 
delightfully suggestive of the chapels of rural England. 
The Baptist church, though large, is of frame ; but it 
occupies the most centrally located site of any church 
in town. It is directly opposite the Public Library, 
another handsome, modem building of brick and stone, 
wherein a large free library is maintained for the edifi- 
cation and education of the people of the city. 

However, among all the handsome buildings of mod- 
ern Dodge City, from her perfectly appointed signal sta- 
tion, to her huge grain elevators, there is not one which 
she cherishes more highly nor of which she is more proud, 
than of a modest little cottage in the heart of the city. 
This is the oldest house in town, though it is so well 
preserved that no one would suspect it to be Dodge's 
oldest house in point of service. It is as strong and 
substantial as it was thirty years ago, and is still doing 
splendid service as a residence. I wrote a brief descrip- 
tion of this house for the ''Dodge City Globe," of Novem-- 
ber 9th, 1911, which follows. Said the "Globe:" 

"It is a cold day when E. M. Wright, pioneer plains- 
man and frieghter, cannot get up a good story about 
Dodge City. His latest one is about the oldest house in 
the town. In writing this little sketch for the 'Globe,' 
Mr. Wright lets the house tell its own story, in the follow- 
ing language: 

" 'Not many houses can tell a story like mine. I am 
by far the oldest house in Dodge City. Mine has been a 
checkered career. I was first built in Abilene, then taken 
down and moved to Salina, and from there to Ellsworth. 
Nothing doing in the way of excitement up to my advent 
in Ellsworth. There my trouble as well as my festivities 
began. From that time on, I led a gay and festive life, 
interspersed with some sad tragedies. Many fights and 

— 334 — 



i 

Scraps were inaugurated there, in the wee small hours of 
she night; and once a murder was committed, as well as 
•leveral duels started. I said murder; in those days we 
Jialled it ''shooting" and the man who did not get the 
ilrop was the "unfortunate." Then I was moved to Fort 
Oodge and first occupied by Charles F. Tracy, who was 
.'.ucceeded by John E. Tappen, and he by R. M. Wright, 
oost-trader, and he by James Langton and his delightful 
dster, who was a great entertainer. 

'' 'Here is where I had a gay time, as night after 
light, the officers of the post congregated there, to have 
^ good time. And they had it; never were they disap- 
pointed in this. Cards, dancing, and music were the 
principal programme features, ending with sumptuous 
pepasts about midnight. There have I entertained lords, 
jiukes, and other great men of Europe as well as America. 
^A.mong those who have sat at the festive board were 
jjrenerals Sherman, Sheridan, Miles, Forsythe, and Pope; 
^nd brigadiers, colonels, lieutenant-colonels, and majors 
too numerous to mention. Once I was graced by the presi- 
dent of the United States, President Hayes. 

'' 'From Fort Dodge, I was moved to Dodge City, 
where I have led a very peaceful life, in my old age. I 
am now occupied by W. B. Rhodes and family. Under 
all my owners, I have never been changed, but remain 
exactly the same building as when I was first erected, 
even to the two ells and porch. I now stand on the corner 
of Vine street and First avenue, a venerable relic of my 
Bpast days of glory and splendor.' " 

f' But why continue further with the enumeration of 
lithe noteworthy features of our city, and the description 
of the transformations that have taken place on every 
side Avithin her boundaries, since the time when the Lady 
iOay dance hall was the center of social Dodge, and Boot 
Hill the boundary line of the great buffalo range. 
Change, change, everywhere change, and for the better, 
is all that can be seen. Did I say everywhere? I don't 

— 335 — 



quite mean that. There is one place where Dodge City 
has not changed ; her spirit of hospitality and benevolence, 
of liberality and justice, of kindliness to strangers and 
good cheer to unfortunates, is the same today as it was 
when the people cheered and exulted over the privilege 
of sending aid to the yellow fever sufferers ; or when they 
risked life itself to rescue some frail woman from the 
horrors of Indian captivity. There is an indescribable, 
feeling of kindliness, good fellowship, and homelikeness 
in the very atmosphere of Dodge. The stranger feels it, 
immediately upon his arrival, and no matter how long he 
stays, he finds it continually made good. Snobbery and 
arrogance are little known in her social circles. Her- 
wealthiest and most influential citizens are simple, hearty, 
whole-souled human beings, with the human quality pro- 
nounced in its degree ; and there is a warmth and freedom 
of social intercourse among her residents, or extended 
from the residents to sojourners in the town, that seems 
the very manifestation of the western spirit of our dreams, 
or as if Dodge City might be the ideal, ''where the West 
begins," as described in Arthur Chapman's lovely little 
poem: 

' ' Out where the hand clasps a little stronger ; 
Out where a smile dwells a little longer; 

That's where the West begins: 
Out where the sun is a little brighter; 
Where the snows that fall are a trifle whiter ; 
Where the bonds of home are a wee bit tighter ; 

That's where the West Begins. 

' ' Out where the skies are a trifle bluer ; 
Out where friendship's a little truer; 

That's where the West begins: 
Out where a fresher breeze is blowing ; 
Where there's laughter in every streamlet flowing; 
Where there 's more of reaping and less of sowing ; 
That's where the West Begins. 
— 336 — 



' Out where the world is in the making ; 
Where fewer hearts with despair are aching; 

That's where the West begins: 
Where there's more of singing and less of sighing; 
Where there's more of giving and less of buying; 
And a man makes friends without half trying; 

That's where the West begins." 



— 337 — 



APPENDIX. 

1. Robert M. Wright (see frontispiece) was born at 
Bladensburg, Prince George County, Maryland, Septem- 
ber 2, 1840. His father was born at Alexandria, Virginia, 
in 1800, and when a mere boy was on the battle-field of 
Bladensburg, administering to the wounded soldiers. His 
great-grandfather was a Presbyterian minister, and dur- 
ing the Revolutionary war raised a regiment of militant 
plowboys, at Elizabethtown, New Jersey, of which he had 
command at the battle of the Meadows. The British set 
a price on his head and destroyed all his property. His 
wife was shot by a Hessian soldier, as she sat at her 
window with a babe in her arms. Her husband was killed 
by Tories. His grandfather on his mother's side was Elias 
Boudinot Coldwell, for many years clerk of the United 
states supreme court, whose residence, and private library, 
which had been loaned to Congress, were destroyed by 
the British in the war of 1812. When sixteen years old, 
Robert M. Wright took a notion to come West, He settled 
in Missouri and worked on a farm near St. Louis until 
1859. He made an overland trip with oxen in that year, 
reaching the town of Denver in May. He crossed the 
plains four times by wagon and twice by coach. He 
worked for three years for Sanderson & Company, and 
then became a contractor for cutting hay, wood, and 
hauling grain. He was appointed post-trader at Fort 
Dodge in 1867. He has been farmer, stockman, contractor, 
postmaster, and merchant. He has four times represented 
Ford county in the legislature. In 1899 he was appointed 
commissioner of forestry, and was reappointed in 1901. 
He resides in Dodge City. 

The July, 1912, number of the *' Santa Fe Employer's 
Magazine ' ' says of Mr. Wright : 

''No account of Dodge City is quite complete without 
reference to R. M. Wright. Going into western Kansas in 

— 338 — 



a very early day, this gentleman was, in 1866, appointed 
post trader at Fort Dodge. During a long and prosperous 
career, he has been successively a stockman, freighter, 
contractor, merchant, politician, farmer, county treasurer, 
state forest commissioner, postmaster, and representative 
of Ford county four times in the legislature, and once 
mayor of Dodge City. No man has been more closely 
identified with the remarkable history of Ford county 
than Mr. Wright. He is now living in feeble retirement 
in the old tow^n which he helped make famous, while his 
experiences would fill an interesting volume. The follow- 
ing is given as a characteristic anecdote of his early life. 
It happened while Bob was serving as mayor of Dodge. 

"One day a cow-puncher came to town, bent on hav- 
ing a good time, so he sauntered into the Green Front 
saloon and played his money on a sure thing game. In 
a short time, he and his little pile were parted. Sore at 
his ill luck, he determined to prefer charges against the 
proprietor for running a gambling joint, so he hunted 
up the Honorable Bob Wright, at that time mayor, and 
after introducing himself, presented his case in this 
manner : 

'* 'A feller in that 'ere Green Front has just robbed 
me of more'n sixteen dollars, an' I wants ter have 'im 
pulled.' 

'' 'Been gambling, have you?' retorted the Honorable 
Bob. Then addressing the city marshal, Bill Tilghman, 
who was just crossing the street, he yelled: 'Here, Bill, 
is a fellow that has been gambling . Run him in.' So 
they hauled the prisoner to the police court, where he was 
fined ten dollars and costs, as an object lesson to those 
who might presume to violate the anti-gambling ordinance 
of Dodge €ity." 

2. The Dodge City Town Company (see Chapter I, 
page 9) was organized in 1872, with R. M. Wright, 
'president; Colonel Richard I. Dodge, commanding Fort 

— 339 — 



Dodge; Major E. B. Kirk, post quartermaster; Major 
W. S. Tremaine, post surgeon ; and Captain T. C. Tupper. 
The county of Ford was organized in 1873. Dodge City, 
according to the census of 1901, had 2,199 population, 
and the county of Ford, 5,302, since when, however, said 
population has probably doubled. The town is four miles 
west of the site of the fort. 

3. Jim and Bill Anderson (see Chapter I, page 11) 
killed Judge Baker and his father-in-law, George Segur, 
at Baker's home on Rock Creek, a few miles east of Coun- 
cil Grove, on the night of July 3rd, 1862. Baker kept a 
supply store near the Santa Fe trail. The Andersons 
were hard characters from Missouri. At the commence- 
ment of the war they took to the brush. On one of their 
marauding expeditions in the spring of the year, they 
stole two horses from Mr. Segur. Baker and friends gave 
chase, and, overtaking the party west of Council Grove, 
recovered the horses. Baker swore out a warrant for the 
arrest of the Andersons. Old man Anderson, hearing of 
this, swore he would take Baker's life, and, arming him- 
self' with a rifle, started for Baker's home. Baker had 
been informed, met him prepared, and, getting the first 
shot, killed Anderson. July 2nd, the Andersons skulked 
around Baker's home, but the latter was at Emporia. He 
returned on the night of the 3rd. Baker and Segur after 
dark, were called out, both were wounded, and, retreating 
into the house, took refuge in the cellar. The house was 
fired, and Baker burned to death, and Segur, who escaped, 
died the next day. 

4. Fort Lyon, Colorado, (see Chapter I, page 12) 
was originally established August 29th, 1860, near Bent's 
Fort, on the Arkansas River, and called Fort Wise. The 
name was changed June 25th, 1862. June 9th, 1867, the 
post was newly located at a point twenty miles distant, 
on the north bank of the Arkansas, two and one-half miles 
below the Purgatory River, in latitude 38° 5' 36'', longi- 
tude 26° 30' west. 

— 340 — 



5. Port Larned (see Chapter I, page 12), was 
established Oetorber 22nd, 1859, for the protection of the 
Santa Fe trade, on the right bank of the Pawnee Fork, 
about seven miles above its mouth, 38° 10' north latitude, 
longitude 22° west. It was named, June, 1860, for Colonel 
B. F. Larned, then paymaster-general, though first called 
Camp Alert. 

6. Fort Dodge (see Chapter I, page 12), was locat- 
ed in 1864, by General G. M. Dodge, United States volun- 
teers, the site being an old camping ground for trains 
going to New Mexico. It is in latitude 37° 50' north, 
longitude 100° west. A Colorado regiment camped there 
before the establishment of the post. It was a four-com- 
pany post, and was abandoned in 1882. 

7. Colonel Aubrey (see Chapter I, page 14), was a 
French Canadian by birth, and made two trips on horse- 
back between Santa Fe and Independence ; the first in 
eight days, in 1850; and the second, on a wager of one 
thousand dollars, in five days, in 1852. He was killed by 
Major E. H. Weightman, once editor of the Santa Fe 
"Herald." See "The Overland Stage to California," 
(by Frank A. Root, 1901), pages 54 and 425. 

8. Fort Atkinson (see Chapter I, page 12), a gov- 
ernment post on the Arkansas River, twenty-six miles 
below the crossing of the Arkansas; established August 
8th, 1850; abandoned October 2nd, 1854. According to 
Gregg's "Commerce of the Plains," issued in 1845, Point 
of Rocks was six hundred and ten miles out from Inde- 
pendence, Missouri, and the crossing of the Arkansas was 
about Cimarron station, on the Santa Fe railroad. 

, 9. Pawnee Rock (see Chapter II, page 24). This 
3tory was first written for and published in "Echoes From 
Pawnee Rock," a small book from various authors' writ- 
pgs, compiled by the ladies of Hutchinson, in honor of the 
historic spot. In a letter to Mr. Wright, from one of the 
ladies who had charge of the book, the lady says : 

— 341 — 



''I hear many complimentary comments upon your 
article. A Hutchinson business man, who is something of 
a literary critic, bought the first copy of the "Echoes" 
sold here and remained away from his store in the after- 
noon to read the book. When he next saw me he said, 
'Robert M. Wright is the Avhole thing in your little book.' 

"If there were time I could mention other apprecia- 
tive remarks about your popular contribution. 

"I am very grateful for your support during the 
months I worked on the book. In spite of some discour- 
agement, the work was very enjoyable, and I have been 
paid a thousand times by the appreciative interest of 
patriotic Kansans. 

"I hope you may be present when the Rock is 
formallj^ transferred to the State. 

"Yours very sincerely, 

"MARGARET PERKINS." 

10. The Chivington fight (see Chapter III, page 59) 
occurred in the autumn of 1864. In the summer of that 
year a band of Cheyenne Indians, under the control of 
Black Kettle and White Antelope, about four hundred 
and fifty in all, together with about fifty Arapahoes, 
under Left Hand, known to be friendl}^ Indians, came 
to the vicinity of Fort Lyon, Colorado, in compliance 
with the order of Governor Evans, acting superintendent 
of Indian affairs. This was done with the understanding 
that they were to be protected from the soldiers who 
were to take the field against hostiles. They remained 
in this camp for some time, giving up their arms, and 
depending upon rations for their food. Their weapons 
were then restored to them by Major Scott J. Anthony, 
who had in the meantime superseded Major E. W. Wyn- 
koop in the command of that military district, and they 
were told to go into camp on Sand Creek, about thirty- 
five miles from Fort Lyon. This they did, relying on 
the hunt for food, and maintaining friendly relations with 

— 342 — 



the whites. On the morning of November 29th, about 
daybreak, they were surprised by United States troops, 
under Colonel J. M. Chivington, the commander ot that 
district. An indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, 
and children followed. The three principal chiefs were 
killed. Many of the Indians escaped on horseback and on 
foot, though followed by the mounted soldiers. Of the 
five hundred in camp, about one hundred and fifty were 
supposed to have been killed, two-thirds being women and 
children. (See U. S. Spec. Com. on Indian tribes. Report, 
1867, B. F. Wade, chairman; Official Records' War of the' 
Rebellion, vol. 41, pt. 1, page 948.) 

Rev. John M. Chivington came to Denver in May, 
1860, having been assigned, the previous March, to the 
Rocky Mountain district, by the Kansas and Nebraska 
conference. He had already served that conference in 
Nebraska. In the fall of 1861 the first regiment of Colo- 
rado volunteers was organized ; John P. Slough, colonel ; 
Samuel F. Tappan, lieutenant-colonel ; and John M. Chiv- 
ington, major. April 13th, 1862, Colonel Slough resigned, 
and Major Chivington was appointed to the command of 
the regiment, in recognition of his efficient service in 
New Mexico. In June, 1862, he was placed in command 
of the southern district of New Mexico, from which his 
regiment was relieved at his own request and returned 
to Colorado the following January. November 29th, 
1864, he led the Colorado troops in the massacre of Black 
Kettle's band of Cheyenne Indians at Sand Creek, 
Colorado. 

In 1858 and 1859 there lived in Lecompton a harness- 
maker by the name of John Fribley. Years after the 
war the writer met Fribley, who said he was with Chiv- 
ington at that massacre. He was asked why the soldiers 
committed such an awful thing. He responded that on 
their march from Denver to Lyon the command called at 
the house of a popular ranchman, where travelers and 
soldiers frequently stopped, and they found the whole 

— 343-^ 



family murdered, the wife and mother lying on the floor 
with her entrails covering her face. He said the soldiers 
took an oath to kill every Indian they came across. 

. 11. Fort Zarah (see Chapter V, page 91) was estab- 
lished September 6th, 1864, by General Samuel R. Curtis, 
then in command of the military district, and named in 
honor of his son. Major H. Zarah Curtis, who was killed 
at the Baxter Springs massacre, while on General Blunt 's 
staff, October 6th, 1863. Fort Zarah was about five 
miles east of Great Bend, in the present Barton county. 

30 H 'i^ 



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— 344 — 



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